


As You Wish

by minhonew



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhonew/pseuds/minhonew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Zayn Malik tests the true extent of wishing on a shooting star, unintentionally starts the next level of his and his husband's relationship and learns that he can indeed love Harry even more than he already does despite certain circumstances. This is Zayn and Harry's journey together filled with heartaches, love and a lot of surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trigger

**Author's Note:**

> I have always wanted to write something like this. So yeah. Really excited for you all to read it. Hopefully, you'll find it enjoyable and all that jazz :D Please let me know anything that you feel towards this story. Anything at all. I'd love that <3

Zayn winces as Eleanor lets out another pained shriek and unconsciously presses harder on the car's gas pedal, going almost 80 on a road with a speed limit of 60 kilometers per hour. He glances at the rearview mirror, seeing a pale and disheveled Louis, Eleanor's husband and Zayn's best friend, running his hand through his wife's sweaty hair and murmuring comforting words into her ear. Eleanor only manages short nods and focuses on her breathing.

"Love, are we there yet?"

The question comes from Zayn's left, where Harry, Zayn's husband, is seating. Zayn looks at him and notices that half of his body is turned to the back seat as he fans Eleanor's face with what looks like a Chinese restaurant's take-out menu.

Zayn shakes his head at the anxious young man. "Not yet," he says apologetically. "But we're close."

They reach the hospital after 20 more minutes. By then, Louis is a mess, shaking and worrying because his wife's in extreme pain and he could only wipe away her tears. Zayn watches as the nurses at the A & E wheel Eleanor away to the Delivery room, Louis and Harry hot on their wheels. He says a quick prayer for the safe birth of Louis' firstborn and proceeds to look for a parking space.

"Zayn! Over here!" Harry calls out rather loudly when he sees his husband, grimacing because the nurse that passes by him glares at him in warning. He apologizes meekly and lowers his gaze. Zayn chuckles softly as he plops down on the hard plastic chair beside Harry.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Zayn pulls Harry close and gives him a cold coffee in can. "Any news?"

Harry sighs and fiddles with the can in his hand. "Eleanor is only 5 centimeters when we got here. I, honestly, have no idea what the significance of 5 centimeters is," he replies. "But, Pez says it means the baby will be coming a bit later and gave her an epidural because she was in so much pain."

"Oh, so Perrie's working tonight?" Zayn asks, pressing a kiss to Harry's temple.

Harry sighs in content and snuggles closer to his husband's side. "Yeah, she is. I'm glad Eleanor and baby boy Tommo are in good hands."

"Me too."

Now that the adrenaline has worn off, Zayn takes one quick look at their clothes and laughs a bit. While he has managed to at least throw a coat over his pajamas, Harry's a tad unfortunate. Seeing as he likes to sleep in just his boxers, the events of this early morning has him wearing his shirt on backwards and the sweatpants on his lower half are too short, meaning they're Zayn's.

"You look silly," Zayn teases, poking Harry's side. The younger lad wriggles away fron the offending poke. "Those sweats are mine."

"Technically, they are mine as well because you're my husband," Harry tells him matter-of-factly, cheeks red and curly hair wild it makes Zayn's heart swell.

"I love you," Zayn whispers softly. He tucks an errant curl behind Harry's ear and leans close to his face, his nose nuzzling Harry's cheek.

Harry beams, gaze fond. "I love you too."

A couple of hours later, Leon Ezekiel Tomlinson, a healthy baby boy, is brought to the world. He announces his arrival with loud cries and the proud new father joins him albeit a little more quietly. Eleanor holds her son despite her exhaustion, cooing to him. Louis pulls his small family close, says, "I love you both so much."

Zayn and Harry meet Louis' son when they are settled into a private room. Harry, despite obviously wanting to hold the baby as soon as possible, insists that Zayn should do it first. "That's the godfather's right," he reasons.

Louis laughs loudly from his perch on the bed beside Eleanor. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Haz. I might make Liam the godfather. Or Nialler."

Harry rolls his eyes and wanders to the other side of the bed. He gives a steaming cup of tea and a granola bar to Eleanor, who takes them gratefully. "Oh please, Lou," he scoffs. "Godfather Zayn is like, without a doubt, the best for baby Zeke's well-being. Liam will be an extreme worrywart and Niall will make him eat too much junkfood. You told me that before."

Zayn can't help the loving grin and the hearty laugh that he dotes on Harry after that. Louis, on the other hand, looks unamused by being out sassed by Harry. He opens his mouth to retort but someone beats him to it.

"Harry, that's brilliant," Eleanor pipes up, grinning widely. For a woman who has just given birth, she still has a lot of energy left. "Zeke is such a nice nickname for Ezekiel."

Harry preens and eagerly accepts little Zeke when Zayn puts him in his arms. He kisses both of his soft, ruddy cheeks. "What can I say?" he starts, smiling down at the baby boy. "Uncle Hazza is awesome, right my sweet baby Zeke?"

"Oy, my son has only been here for a couple of hours and you're already turning him into one of your followers," Louis yelps, looking truly horrified and slightly jealous that he did not give the nickname to his son.

Zayn snickers at Louis but keeps his eyes on Harry. He looks completely enamoured with the baby, his face glowing with happiness while he holds on to the small body. Harry starts talking to Ezekiel, telling him the names and describing every member of the extended family that he has the pleasure of joining. Zayn feels a hand squeeze his and he looks away to see Eleanor smiling knowingly at him.

"He's going to be such a great father," she murmurs softly. Beside her, Louis nods.

"He is, yeah."

Zayn dislikes the word 'forever' because he knows nothing lasts for such a long time, but being with Harry everyday makes it easier to believe and wish for it.

They met in one of their university's pep rallies, where the then Law student Zayn managed to elbow Optometry student Harry's nose, making it bleed profusely. Zayn was horrified by what he did and, despite the other's muffled protests, gave Harry a piggyback ride to the nurse's office, where he was cleaned up and informed that nothing was broken.

From then, the attraction was instantaneous. When Zayn's eyes focused on Harry's face, without all the worry and guilt of before, he felt it in his heart that they were for keeps. The two of them will chase forever, together. And judging by Harry's small smile, he wasn't the only one thinking about it.

"Zayn?"

Shaking his head out of his trance, Zayn turns to look at Harry, who is worriedly rubbing circles on the back of his hand. "Are you alright? You were staring at the wall for a few minutes now."

Zayn grins and kisses Harry's cheeks before pressing their lips together. "I'm fine, baby. Was just remembering the first time I met you."

Louis, who is obviously eavesdropping, snorted loudly, knowing exactly what Zayn is reminiscing about. He plays with Zeke's tiny fingers and turns away, trying to give space for Zayn and Harry to talk. Harry laughs at Louis' back, hugging Zayn tightly.

"You have quite the elbow on you, love."

The laugh that tumbles out of Zayn's mouth is louder than the rest of the room's current occupants.

 

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

 

A week later, Zayn watches Harry sleep, unable to do so himself with the running thoughts inside his head. He has his fingers combing through the other's soft hair, reminiscing.

He thinks back to his and Harry's first official date, the awkward, but magical all the same, goodbye kiss they shared infront of Harry's dorm room door.

He remembers their huge fight that resulted in Harry landing on the hospital with dehydration because he was so upset he couldn't eat or drink.

He goes back to the day he proposed, remembering the salty, tear-filled kisses that the two of them had under the stars.

Finally, he plays their wedding day in his head, seeing in his mind's eye the way his mother and Anne's shoulders shook as they cried throughout the ceremony. He vividly pictures Doniya and Gemma's proud smiles and Louis, Liam and Niall's satisfied grins.

Zeke's birth triggered something in Zayn. Seeing Harry glow and dote on the newborn made Zayn crave for a family of his own. Harry and Zayn have been married for 3 years now and the only logical next step in their relationship would have to be starting a family. While adoption is not necessarily a bad idea, Zayn desperately wishes for a child of their own flesh and blood. He knows a surrogate mother will do, but he isn't sure how he would cope with Harry caring and devoting most, if not all, of his time to a pregnant woman. He is, after all, one possessive bastard that gets jealous easily.

"This is giving me a massive headache," Zayn whispers quietly to himself. He gets up slowly, careful not to jar Harry awake, and situates himself on the windowsill. He stares at the darkness of the night sky, seeing twinkling stars and for one crazy moment Zayn hopes, "I wish for a child of our own."


	2. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up to the surprise of a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens! Hehehe hope you all enjoy this chapter :)

Harry stirs awake with a foreboding sense of dread, like something is terribly wrong with him. He scrubs a hand on his face and crawls out of the bed, tucking Zayn under the covers before making his way to the bathroom. He does not bother to turn on the lamp on their bedside table, already knowing the way around their bedroom without the aid of lighting. He quietly closes the door behind himself, flicks the light switch on and pads to the sink. He turns the faucet on and scoops a handful of cold water, splashing it onto his face. He looks at himself in the mirror and feels his heartbeat falter.

Looking back at him is a petite lady with his own facial features, her brown hair long and wavy. The female has the exact same shade of his green eyes, the similar sharpness of his nose and their lips are shaped in perfect resemblance. Harry takes a step back from shock and he gasps out a strangled sob when the figure on the mirror moved with him. Frantically, he looks down and with badly shaking hands tear his thin night shirt apart, his heart and mind already knowing what his eyes are refusing to see.

He can't help it. He screamed.

Zayn wakes up with a start at the shriek of terror he heard, shooting up and out of the bed when he hears Harry's loud sobs following soon after. He almost falls flat on his face as the duvet follows his every move. He looks down and curses when he sees the piece of linen wrapped around his ankle, preventing his speedy escape. He untangles the duvet out with surprising speed and practically sprints to the bathroom, yanking the door open to reveal Harry tucked under the sink, weeping. Zayn's heart crumbles.

"Baby," he whispers, throat tight. He truly loathes seeing Harry cry because it physically pains him, seeing those phantom tears drip down his husband's cheeks are like bullets to his heart. Zayn kneels in front of Harry and wishes for the latter to look at him with those bright, pretty green eyes. "What's wrong?"

Harry curls up further into himself, head pushed in between his knees. Zayn threads his fingers into Harry's wild hair and notices how long it has gotten. Maybe Liam's right in saying his husband is in desperate need of a haircut. "Love, come on. Talk to me."

"Z-Zayn..."

Somehow, it slips Zayn's mind that Harry's voice has changed into such a high register with a feminine softness to it. Instead, Zayn focuses on gently scratching Harry's scalp, willing him to calm down. He hums a little bit and smiles when his husband relaxes little by little.

Harry lifts his head and catches Zayn's concerned gaze. "Something's wrong with me," he pushes out with a grimace, looking simultaneously horrified and awfully confused.

"What?" Zayn shakes his head. He gathers Harry's suddenly smaller body and rocks him back and forth. "Nothing's wrong with you, Haz. You're perfectly fine."

Suddenly, Zayn finds himself on his butt at the cold, tiled floor. Harry has shoved him and is looking at him with wide eyes. There is pure fear in the green irises that Zayn is desperately wanting to chase away. Harry uncurls his body slowly and Zayn's jaw drops, finally getting at what Harry is upset about. He feels faint, head spinning as he stares at Harry's torn shirt, where a pair of rounded breasts are situated on his husband's normally flat chest.

"Harry, w-what?"

Harry breaks down into more tears, burying his face in his now small, dainty hands. "I've become a girl!"

 

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

 

"What do you mean Harry has breasts?"

Even through the phone, Liam sounds like he wants to slap Zayn into saying things that are actually possible. If Zayn is pressed to admit, this isn't the first time that his friend sounded like this whilst talking to him. He couldn't say he is used to it, though, and tonight, because of everything that is happening, Liam's scolding tone of voice is extra irritating to Zayn. He is just about to snap at his friend when their conversation is interrupted by a sleepy groan from Liam's end of the line. Liam mumbles, "I'll go back to sleep soon, love. Z just needs me for a bit."

Zayn sighs heavily, feeling Harry's nervous fidgets on his side. To calm him down, Zayn rubs a hand on Harry's side. "I'm serious, Liam."

"Well, me too," Liam says without missing a beat. Zayn has been his friend for a long time to know that he is runing a distressed hand through his hair with a frown on his face. "How in the world is that possible? Harry has a dick, for goodness' sake! This...oh."

Zayn tenses. He knows that tone of voice as well. "What?" he growls.

"Harry put you up to this, didn't he?" Liam accuses. There is rustling on his side and Zayn assumes he has moved to get off the bed. "That brat probably thinks it's hilarious, waking up his best friend in the middle of the night to say he has suddenly grown girl bits."

"Liam are you fucking serious right now?" Zayn hates the way Harry flinches from him when he shouted into the phone but he can't help it even if he tried. He has always been extremely protective of Harry. "What the hell would Harry be gaining by pranking you this morning? Eyebags? We already have enough of that, don't you think?"

Suddenly, Harry presses a hand to his mouth in realization, a sob breaking through the barrier. Harry's shoulders shake lightly at first and then gradually increases in intensity. Zayn knows Liam can hear him because he grunts a panicked, "Shit."

"What did I do? Shit! Zayn, tell Haz I'm sorry," Liam adds, tone miserable. Zayn can already imagine his expression of regret and sighs heavily. He wants nothing more than to scold Liam some more but then Harry is hiccuping and sniffling on his side and he needs him to calm down before he gets himself sick.

Zayn kisses Harry's temple repeatedly. "Baby, you'll make yourself sick if you keep crying like this. Liam didn't mean to act like the real twat that he is. He's just shocked."

"Hey!"

Harry lifts his head to look at Zayn. Zayn takes one look at him and struggles not to pick him up and cuddle him on his chest like a newborn. Harry is positively miserable; his eyes are swollen and red-rimmed, his nose is runny and his bottom lip is quivering. There are dry and fresh tear tracks on his cheeks and Zayn softly rubs them away with his thumb. "Calm down, hmm? Liam says he's sorry."

"Put me on speaker, Z."

Zayn pats Harry's cheeks and presses the speaker option on his phone. A few seconds later Liam's voice can be heard in their silent bedroom. "Hey, Haz."

Harry clears his throat. "L-Liam, hi."

"Zayn told me what happened," Liam says, sounding a little off. Zayn thinks he might have been surprised to hear a voice so unlike Harry's deep rasp. "For a minute there I...I really thought you're just pulling my leg, like when we were in 7th grade and you called me at 5 in the bloody morning on a Sunday to tell me that you're moving to China."

Harry laughs a bit. However, hearing himself sound like a girl made him stop abruptly.

"So, erm, yeah. I find this, uh, situation truly hard to believe, but I will help you. Niall, too. We'll visit you two tomorrow morning, err later, and we will go from there, yeah?"

"Liam," Harry sniffles, rubbing his eyes. He turns to Zayn with glassy eyes, smiling a tiny bit. "I'm s-sorry. It's not your f-fault I'm crying, o-okay?"

"Yeah, m-mate."

Zayn hears Liam's breath hitch. It is silent on his end of the line for a minute but he is definitely smiling when he responds. "Chin up, Harry. I'm sure you've become a very pretty girl."

Harry's eyes go comically wide and Zayn thinks about how bloody gorgeous he is in any body that he inhabits.

"Watch what you say. Harry is my husband, Liam."

"Never said he isn't."

"Whatever, you tosser," Zayn scoffs. Harry lets out a snort and a giggle before he lays his head down on Zayn's shoulder. "Bye, Payne."

Liam chuckles into the phone. "You better have a lot of food when we get there. Later, Malik. See you, Haz!"

Zayn ends the call, tosses his phone onto the bedside table and pulls Harry down. Harry quietly lies down beside Zayn, eyes closed. He does not say anything else afterwards and Zayn hates it. This noticeable change in his demeanor worries Zayn greatly. Normally, Harry fills silences between the two of them with hums and soft murmurs of any story that he finds worth sharing to his husband. Harry also talks about his feelings openly. Whether he is upset or content or angry or happy, he does not hesitate to say it out loud. Now, though, Zayn is certain he is feeling weighed down, can feel sadness coming off of him in waves but he keeps it in.

Zayn has a feeling that Harry is giving him the chance to talk first for once.

"Don't worry, love," he says gently. He places his hand on Harry's cheek, caressing the soft skin lovingly. "We'll fix this together."

Harry nods and peeks an eye open to see Zayn. Zayn smiles at him.

Harry holds Zayn's other hand and presses their intertwined hands against his chest. "I'm sorry for being like this."

Zayn scoots closer to him. "Don't be. None of this is your fault."

Harry's bottom lip trembles again and against Zayn's desperate wishes, tears slip out of his husband's closed eyes. He closes the distance between them and holds Harry.

"I got you, my love."


	3. Support

There is a symphony of tinkling sounds and wonderful smells inside the kitchen when Zayn enters it. He looks around, past the soft filter of the morning light through the rounded windows, spotting a table set up simply for four persons and a familiar figure puttering around. Zayn steps further inside, approaches Harry and envelopes him in a hug, pressing a kiss to the back of his head. He breathes in his unique scent and immediately feels that fluttery reaction deep in his belly, the one he automatically gets when his husband is near. Zayn stays that way for a minute, pressed against Harry's back, and entertains the idea that last night's events are simply a product of his exhausted mind. He smiles when the baby curls on Harry's nape tickle his cheeks.

"Good morning, my beautiful husband," he whispers fondly into Harry's ear and tugs playfully on the other's messy bun.

Past experiences make Zayn confident, knowing how Harry enjoys hearing him say husband, so he doesn't understand when today the younger man tenses and drops the whole egg into the hot pan. The delicate thing falls with an audible crack and then a thin stream of the egg whites spill out and sizzle when it comes into contact with the heated surface of the pan. Harry trembles in Zayn's arms, further making the latter's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Shit."

"What's wrong, Haz? I only-"

Zayn shuts up quickly when Harry turns to face him. He notices how wrong he is for thinking about last night as a dream. So very wrong. He lets his arms around Harry go limp on his sides and takes a step back. He stares at the front of the baggy t-shirt that Harry is currently wearing, noting absentmindedly that it is actually his favorite Rolling Stones shirt. He swallows past the lump in his throat, eyeing the gentle swell of the breasts that he has seen just this morning on Harry's chest. Well, shit.

"Babe. Haz. I-I'm sorry. I thought last night was just a dream and then I...I saw you cooking breakfast. I thought nothing has changed, like."

Harry stares at Zayn with sad green eyes and a small, understanding smile. He quickly turns on his heels, says, "It's alright, Z." But Zayn knows it isn't, has seen the flash of hurt that passed through Harry's features and he hates it. He feels hopeless like this, a little lost, watching Harry pick up the pan with the cracked egg and dumps its contents into the trash bin with shaking hands. Harry quickly washes the pan, places it on top of the stove and goes back to making sunny side up eggs, shoulders slouched. Zayn wants to touch him, rub his back and kiss his forehead but it is like something is physically stopping him from doing so.

To stop his anger from rising because of the helplessness of his situation and at least do something useful with himself, Zayn turns the coffee maker on, knowing how Liam gets if he doesn't get his morning caffeine fix. For Harry, Niall and himself, he starts boiling water for their favorite tea. He then pulls teacups and mugs from the cupboard, dumps a spoonful of coffee grind into the coffee maker and puts teabags into the teacups. They work in silence and Zayn tries not to feel saddened by the fact that his usually cheerful husband is awfully quiet. He wishes for Harry to say something, anything at all about what he is currently feeling because suddenly Zayn is at a loss.

Harry and Zayn has always been able to tell what the other is feeling through a look in each other's eyes alone. Although often aloof and a good actor, Zayn is an open book to Harry, doesn't even stand a chance of effectively using his impressive poker face. In turn, Harry, who has trained himself to smile and hide his true emotions to avoid people worrying over him, is as clear and transparent as water to his husband. They work best that way, balancing each other out, yin and yang. Louis, who dislikes emotional, sappy talks, once grudgingly mentioned how he thinks Harry and Zayn are perfect for each other, that they are meant to be. Zayn believes this to be true as well.

"Zayn."

Zayn jumps back at the unfamiliar voice that called out to him, startled out of his thoughts. He shakes his head and looks at Harry questioningly. "Yeah, Haz?"

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbles. His head is down and he is playing with his fingers, clearly uncomfortable and upset. Zayn stares at him and tries hard not to hold onto the thought that Harry is smaller than him now. It's disconcerting. "I'm sorry for being like this."

I'm sorry for being like this. Zayn has heard this last night and he hopes to never hear it again from Harry. "You know how I feel when you apologize to me and have done nothing wrong, Harry," Zayn replies, certain that when this comes up again, he will not get tired of reassuring his husband that none of this is his fault. "You have a right to feel uncomfortable about this. I know I would."

There is a fervent shake of the head from Harry and then he finally lifts his head up, eyes glistening with tears. He opens his mouth to say something when the doorbell rings and Louis hollers out his greeting. Niall's joyful laugh can be heard next to Liam's scolding that Louis should keep it down because it is still way too early to annoy Harry and Zayn's neighbors. Zayn sighs loudly, gives Harry an apologetic smile, which is unnoticed because the latter has returned to cooking, and goes to answer their front door.

"Good morning, Zayner."

"Hey, Z!"

"Alright, lad? How're you?"

"I'm fine, Liam. Good morning," Zayn returns their greeting, albeit softer in volume. He steps aside to let the three inside their house. Louis enters first, followed by Liam and then Niall. They take their shoes off and put them on the side before regarding Zayn with curious eyes. Normally, Niall or Louis would immediately set off to find Harry, but not today.

Louis clears his throat. "So?" He honestly has no idea what is going on, only that Zayn and Harry need their help and fast. Liam has called him earlier and invited him to visit the couple. Seeing that the last time he saw his two friends was about a week ago, he agreed. He has been too immersed in coddling Eleanor and Zeke that he feels guilty for neglecting to at least send his mates a quick text message.

"He's fragile," Zayn whispers softly. He looks and sounds exhausted. There are bags in his eyes and his lips are turned down. "Lads, I don't know what to do."

Niall, Louis and Liam all stare at him with varying degrees of sadness. They have seen this Zayn before, once for Niall and Liam and twice for Louis. The first time Louis saw Zayn in an all-time low was when he first came out to his parents in his freshman year in high school. They did not take it too lightly when he did and shut him out for a couple of months. Zayn spent these days with his best mate, recovering from the emotional wounds that he received. The second time that Zayn was this upset was during his and Harry's first big fight. He had showed up to Liam and Niall's flat for lad's night, alone and shaking. When they coaxed the information out of him, he only managed to say, "I've hurt him and I'm sorry." It was heartbreaking.

Liam sighs and herds the three men towards the kitchen, where he is certain their youngest is. When they reach their destination, they all stop short in the doorway, mouths agape except for Zayn. Their eyes are locked in on Harry, who is currently humming a soft tune as he stands on his tiptoes and reaches for the cupboard, fumbling for another plate. He's dressed in baggy sweats, which pooled around his feet from how long they were on him, and a rather big thin shirt. From that alone, one could tell how drastic the changes to his body truly are. Harry is now smaller than Louis with longer hair that is currently tied up. He obviously heard Louis earlier and is now preparing a plate for him.

Oh, Louis thinks faintly, that is the problem that Liam was talking about.

"Oops!"

Zayn pushes the three surprised lads to the side and rushes to pull Harry away when he starts wobbling. He presses Harry against his chest with his right arm and takes the plate with his left. "Be careful, baby."

"T-thanks, love."

The changed voice of their friend seems to do the trick and the three snap out of their shock. Liam coughs into his fist and waves at Harry when the younger's gaze finally land on them. "Hey, Hazza."

Niall opens and closes his mouth before swallowing audibly. He shakes his head as if clearing it. Louis elbows him on the side to which Niall reacts with a groan. "H-Harry, good morning?"

Harry smiles shyly at the couple and then looks at Zayn's best mate. Louis, ever the tactless one, greets him with a, "You're so pretty. Wow."

Liam whacks his friend upside the head just as Zayn glares dagger at him. Niall snorts out a laugh and Harry giggles nervously, blushing.

As usual, even brash and sassy, Louis tends to save the situation from getting any more awkward. The tension leaves the room and they all sit down around the table, Liam and Niall on the left side, Harry and Zayn on the right with Louis occupying the chair at the end. They all marvel at the generous spread of bacon, eggs, hotdogs and homemade biscuits and jam on the table and thank Harry. Zayn serves the tea and coffee first before pulling out a pitcher of water for anyone who wants to have some.

Louis couldn't seem to stop staring at Harry's face, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I wasn't kidding earlier, Haz. You're too pretty and it's illegal."

Under the table, Liam stomps on Louis' foot, not even being gentle about it. Louis yelps loudly from the pain, which makes Niall snicker at him. Zayn places an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulls him closer. "I hope you know I don't appreciate you complimenting and gawking at my husband."

"I'm sure you'll strangle me on this very spot if I call him ugly," Louis scoffs, stabbing his egg with a fork. "I don't even know where to stand."

Liam, like a real referee on stage, waves his forearm up and down between Zayn and Louis. "Stop it. We all came here for a very important reason," he says, exasperated. Although the best of friends, Zayn and Louis tend to bicker like they're the worst of enemies. It is exhausting and, quite frankly, is grating on the last of Liam's nerves. "We are here to help Harry, not hear you two argue. The sooner we finish breakfast, the faster we get to see Ms. Teasdale."

"Tea-who?" Niall asks.

Harry, Zayn and Louis perk up at Liam's words and are now staring at him with interest. Liam swallows a mouthful of his coffee and nods. "Teasdale," he enunciates, making sure to emphasize every vowel of the unfamiliar surname. "Lou Teasdale. Ruth recommended her."

"She can help us? How?"

"Remember how Ruth once got our dog, Loki, to talk?"

Niall laughs loudly, almost choking on his bite of the bacon. "Oh, I remember that!"

"Don't get me wrong, hearing Loki talk was amazing but he just...didn't know when to stop. He babbled and babbled and babbled even in the wee hours of the morning. My parents were exhausted by the morning from the lack of proper sleep. Yeah, so like, that was a couple of years ago. We got around town but no one offered to help us out."

By now, every single one of them has abandoned their plate to listen to Liam's tale. Harry has leaned close towards his friend, eyes wide.

"It was frustrating because while magic is essentially sneered upon back then, it wasn't exactly illegal to be using it, especially for good things, you know?"

Zayn nods because he does remember a time like that. Magic has only been legalized a few years back and, initially, people were wary of it. The same cannot be said for today as a lot of citizens, particularly those of the higher class and members of the government, employ wielders of magic to do their chores for them, good and bad alike. He turns to look at Harry and taps his shoulder, urging him to eat. Harry nods, picking up a biscuit and nibbling on it.

"Lou Teasdale was the only one who reached out to offer her help," Liam continues. He twirls the fork on his hand as he talks. "She took one look at Loki, murmured this sort of spell and poof! Loki was barking again."

"You think she can help me?" Harry asks timidly, grimacing at the sound of her voice. Niall winces for him.

Liam smiles warmly at his friend, staying optimistic for everyone. "I know so," he says, confident. "She's good at what she does."

Zayn gently pats Harry's back and kisses his temple. He can practically feel how eager Harry is to see her but he needed to eat first. "We can go to her after breakfast, yeah love?"

"Okay, Zayn," Harry agrees, a small smile on his lips. It is such a far cry from his usual grins but Zayn is happy seeing it nonetheless.

The five friends start eating then, a bubble of hope growing inside each of them for Harry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? I hope it was alright. I love writing ot5 interactions. Just imagining them bantering about and being who they are. DREAMY SIGH. 
> 
> Yeah. 1D's got me hooked. 
> 
> Anyway, do comment or leave me a kudos. Thanks lovelies xx


	4. Truth

"I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do for now."

Harry's bottom lip quivers and he slumps on his seat in the middle of the wooden floor, all of his energy seemingly drained out of his body. "But why?"

Lou Teasdale, a petite woman in her early thirties with long, wavy silver hair, sends a sympathetic look on Harry's way. She plops down beside the distraught Harry. "The magic that caused your transformation is powerful and strong in its purpose. I think something must happen first, like an end result, before you switch back to being male."

"That sounds suspiciously dangerous, like a plot to a horrible horror movie," Harry mumbles, playing with the salt beside his feet and upsetting the design of the symbol that Lou has drawn on the floor. "Do you have any idea what that 'end result' is?"

"None at all," Lou says regretfully. She runs a hand through her hair and stands up. She offers a hand to help Harry up. "I'll do more research on gender magic and call you up here when I get something helpful."

Harry heaves himself up and dusts the seat of his borrowed pants. He adjusts his big shirt, making sure that his breasts are not so obvious, which is a hard feat considering this curse has blessed him generously. He sighs heavily and follows Lou out of the door. Zayn rushes to meet him, keeping a small distance between their bodies, and he smiles weakly at his husband.

"It didn't work," Zayn states more than asks, a noticeable sadness etched on his face. Nowadays, there is a seemingly permanent furrow to his eyebrows that Harry wants to kiss away.

Harry shakes his head. Time to give Zayn's frown more reason to stay. Oh well. "Unfortunately."

Lou eyes Zayn as his expression falls at the revelation. She pushes the couple to her den, where she murmurs incantations to heat up the pot of tea that she has brewed beforehand. Once the tea is hot enough, Lou pours it into three teacups then serves it to her guests with a small smile.

"If you two must know, the spell to change genders is granted to Harry here as opposed to he is cursed by it," she says conversationally, watching as twin sets of eyebrows furrowed in confusion in front of her.

"What?"

"Basically, someone's wish is granted in the form of Harry turning into a female."

Harry splutters at that and splashes tea onto himself. He hisses loudly at the unexpected burn while Zayn springs into action, pulling a handkerchief out of his jeans' pocket to wipe the hot liquid out of his husband's hands.

"Do you know who did the wish?" Harry asks when he has recovered enough.

Lou stares thoughtfully at Zayn's figure fussing over Harry before shaking her head. She sips at her tea and says, "Not a clue."

The answer is what Harry and Zayn expects and, really, it shouldn't hurt but it does, a dull ache deep in their chests. Zayn holds one of Harry's hands and squeezes it tightly.

And as much as it scares Zayn to ask the question that has been bugging him for the longest time, he powers through it, "Will he be stuck like this forever?"

Lou shakes her head. "No," she replies, much to Zayn's relief. "The spell is powerful but it has a purpose. Once the purpose is fulfilled, I reckon Harry here will revert back to being a man in the blink of an eye."

Harry blinks owlishly and begins firing up questions, "Is there a way to know what that purpose is? Or what the wish is? Who did the wish?"

Lou answers patiently. "Whoever performed the spell placed a block on those information. However, I will continue to do some research on it and try to maybe lift that block or something."

"That'll be great," Zayn breathes out, wrapping Harry in his arms.

Lou nods and they plunge into silence afterwards, finishing their cups of tea. Zayn offers to clean up when they have sipped the tea up to the last drop. Lou takes up on this and watches as the dark-haired lad collects the cups and saucers. He then pads quietly to the kitchen to wash them.

"I'm going to the loo," Lou tells Harry, patting his head gently. Harry nods and makes himself comfortable on the couch, pulling his legs up and resting his chin on top of his knees.

Instead of heading to the comfort room like she has told Harry, Lou walks to the kitchen, where Zayn is. She stands beside the young man, arms crossed over her chest. "Zayn."

Zayn pauses and looks at Lou with confusion. "Yeah?"

"You did it."

"What?"

"It was you who wished for something that resulted in Harry turning into a girl."

As expected, Zayn is not aware of what he has done. Lou watches as his expression changes from shock to anger to guilt in the space of a minute and she hurriedly casts a spell to prevent the fall of the cup that Zayn is washing. She simply cannot risk the meaningless deaths of ancient chinaware because of her occupation. The teacup hangs suspended in the air as Lou allows the shell-shocked Zayn to absorb her words. After a few seconds, he blinks rapidly and gasps loudly, almost as if he has just emerged out of water.

"This," Zayn croaks. "It's all my f-fault?"

Lou nods, snatching the frozen teacup and putting it away. "I'm afraid so. Your face was the first thing I saw when I performed the reverse spell, which means it was your wish that was granted."

Zayn feels faint, his legs weak as the full weight of his actions slammed into him. He hurries to remember a time where he wanted Harry to be a woman. He comes up with nothing. "Fuck," he grunts. "I've no idea what my wish was. I don't remember making any."

Lou looks on sympathetically. She steers Zayn away from the sink and out of the kitchen. She casts a spell under her breath and the next thing you know, the saucers and teacups are washing themselves. She leads Zayn to the living room and in a hushed tone, she reassures him, "Don't beat yourself up about it. We'll get your husband's dick back." Lou snickers at the scandalized look on Zayn's face. "Stop it with that face. I know you miss it. However, all you can do now is just focus on helping him cope."

"Should I tell him?" Zayn bites his bottom lip, stressed out beyond belief. He is already imagining Harry's angry and heartbroken expression and it makes him squirm uncomfortably. Above all, he truly despises hurting his husband.

"That's up to you. But, I think you should."

They are now a step away from the living room, so Zayn, instead of replying verbally, merely nods in response. He enters the room, schooling his features into a smile so as to not worry Harry. Zayn runs a hand through Harry's hair and is rewarded with a shy, dimpled smile. "Hey Haz, let's go home."

Harry stands up and shakes Lou's hand. "Thank you for all your help, Louise." For some reason, he insists on using Lou's whole first name, much to her amusement.

"Don't sweat it," Lou grins broadly. She moves forward to shake Zayn's hand. She gives him a knowing look and a curt nod before turning her attention back to Harry. "We'll have you back to the male population in no time."

"I sure hope so."

 

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

 

Harry looks over at Zayn's hunched form with a frown, wondering if he has said something wrong to upset his husband into silence. Ever since friday, when they met up with Lou, Zayn has been quite closed off and awfully silent. He rarely starts conversations, which reminds Harry an awful lot of the beginning of their relationship. It has been the time where Harry babbles and Zayn reacts. It has been 3 bloody days like that and Harry has had enough. He reaches out and rubs a dainty hand on Zayn's thigh. "Zayn?" he says softly. "What's wrong?"

Feeling that same electric current run through his veins but seeing a smaller, delicate hand on him, Zayn flinches away from Harry's touch, an expression of guilt etched deeply in his face. He scoots away from Harry and stands up, his hands trembling. "I'm fine. Everything's alright."

"Oh." Harry looks in pain with Zayn's obvious rejection, his hand falling limply on his side. His head drops, his wild hair a curtain around his face. The action effectively shields his wounded expression but Zayn knows better, can feel his own heart hurting for his husband. But then, suddenly, there is fury. Zayn feels enraged, great anger making its way around his body, his limp hands balling into fists by his side.

"I hate this," he mutters angrily. He stomps his away towards the telly, shutting it off rather violently. He turns around and sees Harry's sad but understanding expression. Even at a time like this, Harry manages to put Zayn's well-being above his, willingly taking all the heat of Zayn's temper. He's truly magnificent. Zayn knows he should stop, wants to, but it's like he has no control over his body, especially his mouth when he says, "I hate that body!"

Harry flinches as though he was physically struck by Zayn's harsh words. However, he makes no sound, stays as still and understanding as ever. His green eyes look at Zayn with all the patience of the world, urging him to let all his bottled emotions out. He nods in this tiny way, a flicker of an encouraging smile ghosting across his lips for the briefest of moments as if saying, "Go on, love. I'm listening."

Zayn takes it. He grabs at the rope that Harry has thrown across the ocean, holding onto it tightly and pulling himself towards the safety of his husband's arms. "I want my husband back," he tells Harry in a rush, cheeks flushed red with the combination of anger, sadness and guilt.

Harry nods ever so slowly, pushing his long hair away from his face. "But, I'm here, Zayn," he replies, voice cracking slightly with his emotions. He seems to finally feel something other than his infinite calm. Sadness, maybe. "I've always been here."

Zayn turns his back to Harry, not wanting him to see just how much this whole situation is affecting him. He purses his lips to keep from throwing a strop and makes his way towards the door. He doesn't make it more than two steps forward because, suddenly, a soft body is draped behind him. He stills completely, feeling a warm, wet patch starting to form where Harry's face is pressed on his back.

"Zayn," Harry hiccups. "Please don't be mad at me."

Zayn sighs deeply. Great, he thinks regretfully, I've made Harry cry. "I'm not mad at you."

"Then...what?"

Zayn removes Harry's arms from around him and turns to face him. He cups his husband's face, thumbing away the tears on his cheeks. Harry's eyes are so wide, glassy, nose red, and his lower lip trembling. Zayn barely refrains himself from smothering him in kisses, remembering that he's supposed to be upset.

"I just feel...helpless. I don't like it!"

Harry stares at him, eyes red and expression soft. "Don't be."

"I promised to protect you! I vowed to, in our wedding. Yet, I let this happen."

Harry snorts. "It's not like you handed me over to some magic wielder and have them turn me into a woman."

The last time Zayn's eyes were as wide as they are now was when Harry accidentally stumbled upon him kissing his ex-girlfriend back, hands tangled in her pin-straight blonde hair. It was back when their relationship has just passed its 1-year mark and, fuck, did it hurt. It was what started their biggest fight yet, Harry had thrown harsh words fueled by pain and Zayn responded in kind, empty reasons to justify his actions. They ended up hurting each other, emotional wounds that were left open, festering for days until Zayn had received a literal wake-up call from the nearby A & E, informing him that he was listed as Harry Styles' emergency contact and that he should go there as soon as possible. As it turned out, Harry fainted at work, severely dehydrated and fatigued. Zayn knew it was because of the way they left things and he deeply regretted hurting Harry. Ever since then, Zayn and Harry worked on communicating better and when they have misunderstandings, they make sure to resolve it before going to bed.

Right now, it was because of this little flashback that Harry feels dread crawl up his spine at seeing Zayn with eyes as wide as saucers. His brain is on overdrive, thinking of the worst scenarios. He presses a hand against Zayn's chest and pushes him away gently. He tilts his head up, staring at his husband's guilt-filled eyes.

"W-What is it?"

Zayn closes his eyes tightly, stepping back. Here it goes. "I did it," he whispers so softly that Harry has to lean forward to catch it. "I made the wish."

Harry backs away from him so fast he stumbles on his feet and ends up sprawled on their carpeted bedroom floor. The hilarity of the situation is lost when he quickly gets to his feet, with such an amount of grace that is normally not in his possession, and plops on top of their bed. He grabs fistfuls of the duvet, scrunching them tight in between his fingers. His head is bowed and Zayn is about a second from beating his own self for bringing this kind of pain to his husband.

Harry looks up, mouth set in a grim line. He tries to get his mouth to work with his vocal chords but all he can seem to do is open and close his lips, sounds and words eluding him. "So," he croaks after a few tries and then clears his throat. "You...want a woman?"

Zayn opens his mouth to cut Harry off, because damn it he wants Harry and Harry alone, only to close it when the latter puts a hand up to stop him. "Zayn, I have breasts," Harry says with a cringe, "and a working vagina," another cringe, his voice rising a bit, almost hysterical, "now you're telling me that you made the bloody wish. Tell me how I'm supposed to take this? Because I don't know how."

Harry sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. He tries hard not to cry, realizing how painful this little information is, knowing his husband wished for him, an adult male, to be turned into an adult female. He sniffs softly.

"I'm sorry, love," Zayn says sincerely, kneeling down in front of Harry, cupping his face tenderly between his hands and counting it as a win when Harry doesn't stop him or pull away. "I didn't...it was...I...just...it never-fuck this is hard."

When Harry catches his eyes, they are open and honest and still so breathlessly unnerving. Harry takes a deep breath and thinks about how, despite all of this, he cannot seem to get mad at Zayn. He gets it, whatever 'it' is, and is willing to be whatever his husband wants him to be. He calms down slightly at that, loosening his death grip on the fabric of the duvet.

"I don't want a woman," Zayn settles for saying, eventually. There is a tiny frown and a deep furrow to his eyebrows, meaning he's frustrated with himself. "I want you, Harry Styles. I want you with no breasts and a dick. I want you with breasts and a pussy, too."

Harry coughs a small laugh into his fist, trying and failing to keep up his angry facade.

"I swear I never wished for you to be something that you're not," Zayn continues, softly tracing Harry's cheek with his thumb. "I love you for you. I wouldn't want to change that. Not now, not ever."

"I know," Harry whispers quietly.

"I'm sorry."

Harry shakes his head, defeated, and wraps his arms around his husband, hugging him. He goes boneless against Zayn when the latter returns the embrace tightly. Zayn kisses the top of his head repeatedly. "I love you," he murmurs. "I'm sorry."

"I love you, too."

"I promise you I didn't wish for you to turn into a...girl. I would never. Someone must have been playing with us and I'm going to find them and make sure they pay for what they did to you."

Harry hides a smile into Zayn's shoulder. He tightens his arms around his husband and lifts his head to say, "You sound really hot when you're being protective of me, Z."

"Shush you," Zayn laughs quietly, tentatively pressing his lips against Harry's. He isn't sure if he's allowed this pleasure yet, so he remains cautious, not wanting to upset Harry anymore than he already has. He doesn't have to worry, though, because a few seconds later, he feels his heart flutter when Harry kisses back. He cups the back of Harry's head, fingers tangled against his hair, and nibbles softly on his husband's plump bottom lip. Harry moans quietly, pushing his chest against Zayn's. Feeling the soft swell of Harry's breasts on his, reminding both of them of the situation at hand. Zayn leans back, just far enough to stare at Harry without going cross-eyed. He drinks in Harry's flushed cheeks and glistening lips until he decides to pepper the younger's face with soft pecks that has Harry giggling prettily. Zayn cracks a smile and holds Harry at an arms' length.

"Umm," he starts, a bit unsure and shy.

Harry nods encouragingly at him.

"How do they f-feel? T-The, erm, b-breasts, I mean?"

Harry looks down on his chest and back up, a cheeky grin on his lips. Zayn now regrets ever thinking Harry has changed along with his body when he is clearly every inch the charming, cheeky lad that he is. "A tad heavy, I tell you," he replies with a laugh. He grabs Zayn's hands and places them over his ample bosom. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

Zayn swallows audibly, hands shaking a bit when, through Harry's shirt, he feels his nipples harden under his touch. They haven't had the chance to shop for female undergarments and clothes, mostly because Harry is too embarrassed to go out and try lingerie, and so he is always wearing his briefs, shirts and sweats inside their house, looking adorable and tiny in his suddenly too big clothes. Zayn has had a lot of cold showers over the past few weeks because of frustration, terribly missing the feel of his husband's hot and heavy cock in his hand and seeing breasts instead. It is a whole new level of torture to him. Now, though, he is beginning to see that maybe Harry is experiencing the same type of pain as his.

"May I?" He gestures to get his point across and Harry merely flutters his eyes at him and lays down on their bed, offering himself up. He looks at Zayn from under his eyelashes, murmuring a breathless, "C'mon, don't get all shy on me now, love."

And so, Zayn doesn't. He lets all his inhibitions fly out the window and leans down to kiss Harry like it was his last time doing it. Tonight, Zayn and Harry are like two long lost lovers reunited after years of struggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terrible place to stop, eh? Haha. No worries, a sexy filler is on the works. Please wait patiently for it. So yeah. Fun fact: this is my reward to myself for finishing our thesis + final defense, so I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it :D Please vote, comment or whatevs lol xx
> 
> PS. I intend to use 'he/his/him' for Harry all throughout the story.


	5. Intimate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting past each other's worries and guilt, Zayn and Harry finally get intimate again.

Harry is warm underneath Zayn, softer, too, with his new feminine curves, bare and glowing in the moonlight that is filtering through their bedroom window. Zayn kisses the skin under Harry’s ear, grinning when Harry squirms, ticklish. Making his way down, kisses and tiny bruises are showered and sucked into Harry’s supple skin, Zayn’s stubble adding red scratches along the way. When Zayn reaches Harry’s collarbones, he pays them special attention, kissing and licking them with vigor. He enjoys the way that Harry’s breathing starts to speed up and his squirms turn into shudders of pleasure. Harry’s always been very responsive to Zayn and the latter is greatly pleased to know that it never changed despite Harry’s gender transformation. Speaking of which, Zayn cups one of Harry’s breast, feeling them on his palm. He pinches Harry’s nipple, which is significantly bigger than the one that Zayn is used to, and smirks when Harry moans loudly. Encouraged, Zayn grabs both of Harry’s breasts and gently massages them. He watches Harry’s expression twist into one of pure pleasure and he feels emboldened, rolling Harry’s nipples between his fingers until they hardened.

“Did you like that, babe?” Zayn asks, voice low. He ducks down and hungrily sucks at one of Harry’s nipples, eliciting a breathy response from the latter, “Ye—s.”

Slowly, Zayn let his hand travel down Harry’s body, stopping in front of the most significant change in it. Even from an inch of a distance, Zayn’s palm can feel the arousing heat from between Harry’s legs. Zayn presses his middle finger against Harry’s clit and rubs it. Harry gasps sharply, hips stuttering. Zayn presses his grin against Harry’s flushed skin before straightening up. He pushes the sweaty hair that is plastered on Harry’s forehead and kisses his eyelids, then his cheeks, the tip of his nose before his lips. “God, I can’t believe I’m making love with you like this,” Zayn says with a small laugh.

Harry smacks his arse for that comment, glaring at him, which is far from threatening because of the flush that is making his cheeks to the tips of his ears glow red. He pouts after a few seconds. “You’re ruining the mood, Malik.”

With a wicked smile, Zayn draws circles on Harry’s wet folds before slowly inserting a finger inside, crooking it just so. He imagines having these wet, tight walls around his cock and groans under his breath just as Harry lets out a yelp then a long loud moan from the sudden intrusion.

“Is that enough for you to forgive me?” Zayn says as he uses his thumb to rub Harry’s clit.

“Ungh,” Harry whimpers, eyes slipping shut. “Such a half-assed apology, don’t you think so? I think you can do better than that, love.” By now, despite his cheeky words, the flush on his face has traveled downwards, making his neck down to his chest turn a dark red. He looks ridiculously pretty.

Zayn, though, smirks at the obvious need in Harry’s voice and proceeds to add two more fingers inside Harry. He thrusts them gently at first but Harry starts whining and asking for more, so he speeds it up. Harry pants loudly, his own fingers rubbing his nipples while he watches Zayn fuck him with his fingers. With his free hand, Zayn starts working with himself, jacking his throbbing dick with hurried strokes, clumsy with arousal.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Zayn,” Harry says, breathless. Zayn looks at him and there he is, staring at Zayn with so much affection, his green eyes bright.

Zayn is helpless when his lips twitch into a smile as a blush covers his cheeks. Being with Harry, who is always so generous with his love and ways of showing it, one would conclude that Zayn should be used to the random heartfelt compliments. But, no. Despite years of being together, Zayn is still surprised and humbled every time his breathtakingly beautiful husband sends a compliment his way. Perhaps, he will never get completely used to it and that—it’s more than alright.

“As you are, baby,” Zayn replies. “My beautiful rose. My pretty Hazza.”

Zayn pulls his fingers out of Harry and kneels between his legs. He rubs his palms against the inside of Harry’s thighs before sucking a love bite into them, enjoying Harry’s soft sigh of contentment. He then turns his hungry, lust-filled gaze to the glistening folds of Harry’s pussy.

“Want to taste you, Haz.”

Harry squirms. “Yeah. Yes, please, Z.”

Wasting no time, Zayn licks Harry’s pussy and instantly feels two small hands grip his hair. He hears a grunt of his name and opens his eyes, which he hasn’t noticed are closed, watching Harry as he sucks on his clit. Harry moans, chest heaving up and down rather quickly, as Zayn eats him out in earnest, his tongue teasing Harry’s insides. Zayn nibbles on Harry’s throbbing clit and presses two fingers inside him again, crooking them slightly before thrusting them in and out, fucking Harry with them. By now, Harry’s pussy is soaking wet and the noises he’s making above Zayn is significantly louder than when they started. Harry’s heady scent and erotic noises is turning Zayn on so much that he feels his dick begging for his attention. He brings a hand down to stroke it lazily.

“S-stop, Zayn,” Harry groans, shaking his head. “I can’t. I—going to c-cum, if you don’t stop. I want to—wanna feel you inside.”

Sucking Harry’s clit one last time, Zayn pulls back. He crawls over to kiss Harry deeply, licking his way into his mouth. He then sucks and nibbles on Harry’s bottom lip before pulling back slightly, pressing their foreheads together. This close, Zayn can see how dilated Harry’s pupils are, how aroused he is. He looks so good like this, all flushed and wrecked. Zayn runs his hand on Harry’s wild hair that is spread on his pillow like a dark halo, says, “I’m going to make you feel really good, love.”

Harry answers with a moan. He reaches between them and strokes Zayn quickly, his palm sweaty and warm, skin so soft that Zayn falters and lays down on top of him, their bodies molding together.

“Zayn, c’mon,” Harry whispers urgently. “I want you. Please.”

Zayn pushes himself up, peppering Harry’s face with wet kisses. “I got you, babe.”

He strokes himself a few times and guides his cock into Harry’s entrance, pushing himself in, the natural lubrication giving him an easier time. He puts his head on the crook between Harry’s neck and shoulders when he bottoms out, panting.

“God, you feel so good.”

The younger of the two of them puts his legs around his waist and pulls him closer, driving his cock deeper into Harry. They both moan loudly at that. “Move, Zayn. Don’t h-hold back.”

Zayn drops a kiss onto the side of Harry’s neck and nods. He pulls out almost all the way, until only the head of his cock is inside Harry before pushing in again. Harry sighs out in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Knowing that Harry is feeling good, Zayn plants his palms on either side of Harry. With the sturdy support, he starts thrusting with vigor, building a steady rhythm. In no time, Harry is moaning a mantra of his name. Zayn feels sweat drip down his back and heat coil in his belly. He knows that he won’t last long.

“I’m close, Haz,” he grunts, catching Harry’s gaze and holding it. He grabs both of Harry’s hand in his, smiles when Harry laces their fingers together and leans down to kiss him.

“Me too. You feel so, ungh, good.”

Harry reaches down to play with himself and, without a warning and only a shout of Zayn’s name, he starts cumming. Zayn feels a gush of warm liquid and the delicious tightening of the walls around his dick before he, too, orgasms. He lets out a breathless moan and shoots his load deep inside Harry, who cries out when he feels Zayn cock twitch inside him and the warm semen coat his insides. Zayn wraps his body around Harry when he finishes, no longer having the energy to stay upright.

“Hmm,” Harry hums, smiling sleepily as he rubs Zayn’s back. “We should sleep and then do that again.”

Zayn laughs and pinches Harry’s side. “Aren’t you tired?”

“A bit,” Harry admits with a yawn. “But, I did say we will sleep first then do it again.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

Zayn pulls out of Harry, pads to their bathroom to fetch a wet towel and uses it to clean himself up. He turns to Harry and wipes his body with the wet towel as well. He tosses a thin shirt for Harry to wear—they still haven’t gone to shop for female clothes—and makes sure Harry is comfortably laying on the bed before he tends to himself. He is about to pull his boxers back on when Harry tugs on his arm, hard enough to let him fall back onto the bed. A still stark naked Harry giggles like the brat that he is. “Let’s sleep like this,” he says with a grin. “Love your bare body rubbing against mine.”

“But, Haz, s’cold—“

“Zayn,” Harry whines, turning big, puppy eyes on his husband. He has his hands clasped together underneath his chin and manages to look like he is wishing or praying. “Think of easy access when we make love again!”

Snorting, Zayn snuggles close to his dork of a husband, draping the duvet over the two of them. “Fine,” he relents, making it sound like such a big of a task when in reality Harry can make him do whatever he wants him to. “It’s a good thing you’re quite cute, Harry.”

“I’m plenty cute, Zayn,” Harry kisses his nose and grins, dimples showing. He cuddles close to Zayn, tucking his head underneath his husband’s chin. “I’m the cutest husband ever and you are so lucky to have me.”

“Eh, I know someone that is cuter than—“

Harry playfully bites Zayn’s chest, making a soft growling sound and then laughing at the indignant yelp that Zayn lets out. “Shush, Malik. You married me, therefore your argument about someone cuter than me is forever invalid.”

“Fine,” Zayn repeats his agreement from earlier but it sounds far more fond than annoyed. He presses a kiss to the top of Harry’s head and says, “I love you, Haz.”

“I love you too, Z.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This is 1k+ words of half-het, half-not smut. If you guys are wondering, yes, I won't be changing Harry's pronouns for this story (he/him/his) simply because he is still himself, just in a different body.


	6. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Zayn thought things couldn't get any more complicated than they currently are, a new development startles him and Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanking the songs from MITAM album + Little Mix's Secret Love Song for the inspiration as I was writing this chapter. I listened on loop to those songs and just wrote and wrote. Hehe. Enjoyed writing it, so hopefully, you will too. 
> 
> Kudos/Comments are appreciated. Thanks! xx

It has been 2 and a half months ever since Harry has turned into a woman and, so far, there has been no solution at all. Lou has called them up several times and each time they perform a reverse spell to turn Harry back, it simply does not work. Zayn is at his wits end, frustrated beyond belief and wanting nothing more than to have his husband back in his male body. He hates to admit it but every time he sees Harry’s smaller frame curled up on top of their bed after a long day, eyes bright, smiling at him with hair in his face and looking soft in his favorite banana-printed pajamas, he wants nothing more than to run away. It’s proving to be a bit too much and Zayn gets more depressed each time, seeing Harry with breasts and hearing him tell stories about his day with that feminine voice. Zayn feels himself so close to bursting at the seams and spilling out. It doesn’t really help that Harry has been nothing but calm, cheerful even, the whole time, going on about his day normally as though he doesn’t have a pair of tits and a fucking womb inside him. Zayn wonders numbly if he even cares that he is a woman now and perhaps will be stuck as one for the rest of his life, which terrifies Zayn beyond belief.

With all of the stress getting to him, Zayn has decided that going out is the best solution. He is almost always over at Louis’ home now, more than his own, and it shouldn’t feel as good as it does. In there, Zayn is in peace, despite baby Zeke’s loud cries and Eleanor’s bickers with Louis because it is normal, it’s good and it doesn’t fuck up with Zayn’s mind. Harry being a woman, the wish being Zayn’s own damn fault and Harry appearing to not mind it, is messing with Zayn’s head. And this is exactly the reason why he fails to be aware that Harry hasn’t been feeling well in the past few weeks. The younger lad is constantly in a state of lethargy and nausea, often times vomiting in the weirdest of times. Harry is also in a bit of pain from sudden abdominal cramps and the tenderness on his breasts. Zayn is oblivious that emotionally, Harry is poorly as well, miserable and lonely, especially since his husband has developed a new hobby of going out most of the time and the rare times that he is in, he is usually quiet and asleep that they haven’t been able to have a decent conversation with each other.

Harry knows Zayn isn’t taking his gender transformation very well, sees it in the dimming of his eyes and the downward pull of his lips whenever he hears Harry’s voice. It is clear as day that he is blatantly avoiding Harry by leaving their house early in the morning and only returning when he thinks Harry has tucked himself for bed. It hurts Harry deeply, this sudden space between them. It makes him spend his days pondering if there is anything he could do to keep this marriage alive and, ultimately, end up crying silently into his hands when he gets no answer, because, news flash, Zayn is out there somewhere.

Today, after a particularly violent episode of throwing up, Harry has decided to finally go to the doctors and have himself checked out for any stomach bug. Surprisingly, Zayn is still asleep beside him when he was woken up by the overwhelming urge to puke, so he made sure to close the bathroom door to muffle the sounds of his retching. Afterwards, he brushes his teeth and takes a quick hot shower. As quietly as possible, he exits the bathroom, goes to the closet and gathers undergarments and clothes that he can wear for his appointment. Putting a panty on never fails to make Harry wince in embarrassment but wearing the bra is a bit of a struggle for him. It takes Harry a couple of minutes but he manages to put it on in a somewhat decent way. Then, he changes into a plain peach-colored shirt that he tucks into his dark skinny jeans. He fixes his long hair and lets it hang down to dry as he makes his way to the kitchen to make breakfast.

For breakfast, Harry decides to make French toasts and a simply fluffy omelet to go with it. He prepares the custard, dips slices of bread in it and scrambles some egg. Once the bread are soaked with the custard, he fries them in a skillet with butter. When the toasts are done, he stacks them high on a plate and sets it on top of the table. He then moves on to cooking the omelet, adding some bacon on his and cheese on Zayn’s. While the eggs are cooking, Harry cuts up some strawberries and bananas for dessert. He plates the omelet separately once cooked, placing them on the table as well. Satisfied with their breakfast and eager to have a decent meal with his husband, Harry runs upstairs to wake Zayn up.

Harry pushes their bedroom door open and smiles lovingly at his snoozing husband. He approaches the bed with quiet footsteps and climbs on it. He sits beside Zayn’s sleeping figure, runs his hand on the older man’s messy hair and kisses his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, the tip of his nose and then his lips.

“Zayn, wake up,” he coos, giggling when Zayn’s nose scrunches in distaste. “I made you omelet and French toasts.”

“Leave me alone, Haz,” Zayn mumbles, rolling over so his back faces Harry instead.

Harry, undeterred by Zayn’s foul mood in the mornings, merely grins wider and lays his head on Zayn’s side. “Zayn, please. We haven’t been able to have breakfast together in so long.”

Unnoticed by Harry, an expression of guilt crosses Zayn’s face. He opens both of his eyes and stares at the wall. “Maybe some other time, Harry,” he grunts. “I’m really tired because I had to babysit Zeke yesterday.”

Hearing how Zayn spent his day yesterday while he, on the other hand, moped around with his loneliness, made Harry’s heart ache. Determinedly, he tries not to let it ruin his mood. He sits up and faces Zayn’s back, says, “I just…I miss you.”

“And I’m tired, Harry.” Zayn pulls the duvet on his waist over his head, covering himself. “We’ll eat lunch together, okay? Let me sleep in.”

Stubborn, Harry tugs forcefully on the cloth obscuring Zayn from his view. “Zayn, please, let’s have breakfast together.”

“Harry—“

“Z—“

“Leave me alone!”

“Umm…o-okay.”

Nowadays, it also seems like Harry doesn’t have any control on his emotions, and right now, his bottom lip is quivering as he struggles not to cry. There’s a heaviness in his chest as he stands up, staring at a covered up Zayn, who clearly doesn’t want to see him at the moment. He swallows past the lump in his throat and goes down the stairs with slouched shoulders. He drags his feet around the kitchen, covering up the breakfast that he made and placing them inside the fridge. He writes a note to Zayn, puts it up on the fridge door and proceeds to the front door. Harry pats his back pocket to make sure his wallet, keys and phone are there and throws his favorite long coat on. He slips on a pair of sneakers before venturing out of their house.

Deciding against riding the bus, Harry hails a cab. He gives the cab driver his mum’s address and calls her to let her know that he’s visiting. He knows it isn’t such a good idea, showing himself to his mother like this, but he thinks she will understand. Anne will be surprised, of course, but she will accept him.

He’s right.

“Oh, honey,” Anne coos, gathering her son in an embrace after he finished telling her his problems. He sniffles against her chest, trying his hardest not to cry. “You should’ve stayed until lunch and talked this out with your husband.”

“I wanted to,” Harry admits in defeat. He looks anywhere but his mother’s eyes, too embarrassed to do so. “But, I’m not feeling very well these past few days. I…well…I was wondering if, erm, you can come with me to the doctors?”

Anne kisses Harry’s cheek. “Of course, Haz,” she nods. “What’re you feeling, by the way?” She gets up and Harry follows her to the bedroom where she grabs her coat and wallet.

“I’ve been feeling tired and nauseous these days,” he recalls, watching his mum as she shrugs the coat on and then her shoes before heading out. “Sometimes the dizziness is intense that I end up puking. I also have these intense cravings for food. It’s weird and my first thought is a stomach flu, but I don’t know. It couldn’t just be it.”

Anne pauses by the door and stares thoughtfully at Harry as he tugs his sneakers on. “I think I might have an idea of what’s happening to you, but let’s get to the doctors to be sure.” She locks the door after Harry and together they ride the bus to the nearest clinic.

 

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

 

“You better not be spending another day here instead of your house, Zayn,” Louis says sternly from his end of the line. Zayn hears Zeke’s sweet laughter in the background and imagines Eleanor playing with the baby’s tiny feet to elicit such sounds. “You’re being a proper arse to Harry and I would hate for my fist to meet with your face if you make him cry.”

Zayn’s face falls and he drops his head into his hands. “Fuck,” he grunts. “Don’t remind me. I sent him away this morning. God.”

“What the actual fuck, you fucker?!”

“Louis William Tomlinson! No cussing in front of your son, you hear me?”

Zayn would have laughed at the couple if he isn’t so overwhelmed with regrets. This morning, when he has come to his senses, he took a calming bath to soothe his nerves. Once done, he got dressed in his comfiest shirt and sweats, squared his shoulders and went downstairs to have a talk with his husband. Alas, he was greeted by cold omelet and French toasts plus a note.

_Zayn,_

_I’m going to my mum’s. Really need her help about something. Let’s have dinner later, I’ll cook your favorite._

_I love you!_

_H x_

 

The guilt that he feels about slowly abandoning his husband is so intense that Zayn has to sit down heavily on one of their dining table chairs, clutching the note in his fist. He calls Louis and gets an earful from his best mate. Everything hurts because Zayn knows Louis is right. He’s been nothing but a jerk, treating Harry as though he’s the only one feeling miserable.

“Mate, I fucked up,” Zayn whispers in horror, eyes wide. With his realization, he starts to babble into the phone, “I thought I was alone in my problems…was so caught up in my own pain that I—“

“Zayn, shut up.”

Promptly, Zayn shuts up, mouth pressed into a thin line. He clutches the phone in his hand with a tight fist, waiting for what Louis has to say. Chances are, he will actually makes some sense, whereas Zayn is completely out of it.

Louis sighs. “Look,” he grumbles. Zayn can see him messing his hair up in his frustration. “You better sort this out with Harry, alright? This isn’t you, both of you. I thought you said you talk everything out? Why’re you avoiding things now? Zayn, you might not know it, but Harry needs you now more than ever.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Louis’ voice has risen a tad bit and Zayn can no longer hear Eleanor and Ezekiel, meaning the older man has probably moved somewhere else to talk to Zayn without any interruption or restraint. Zayn feels a bit bad for ruining the family’s afternoon. “Are you sure you understand? Because Zayn, fuck, for months, you’ve spent almost every single day here in our flat than yours. I haven’t said anything because I thought you just needed time for yourself. I realize now how wrong of me to think so.”

Zayn winces but he stays quiet.

“Put yourself in Hazza’s shoes, Z. One morning you wake up with fucking tits and pussy, what would you do? How would you feel? If it was me, I’d lose my bloody mind and hurt myself,” Louis says seriously, for once using his sass to give sensible advice.

“Lou, I…”

“Zayn, for the love of—do not apologize to me because I don’t need it. Apologize to your husband when he gets home, you git.”

Zayn nods then realizes Louis cannot see him, so he says, “I will. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Louis snorts. There is rustling on his end of the line, bedsheets probably, and Zayn knows he is fixing their bed. He almost laughs because never in a million years will he imagine his best mate, whose college dorm looked a lot like a mountain of clean and dirty clothes more than a room, making a bed.

“I guess I better go?”

“Hang up,” Louis agrees. Zayn hears him fluffing up pillows. “I’m taking El and Zeke to my mum’s today. We’ll be having dinner.”

That makes Zayn crack a small smile. “Okay, mate. Have a safe trip.”

“Have make up sex, alright?” Louis cackles in response to Zayn’s spluttering response.

“Whatever, Louis. I’m hanging up.”

Zayn places his phone down the tabletop and picks one of the cold French toasts. He nibbles on it and waits for his husband to go home.

 

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

 

Harry is shaking violently, almost like a leaf during a thunderstorm, his hand clutching his mother’s tightly. He is still a little bit pale from the blood taken from him, but it is easier to see that the ashen state of his face is from the result of his blood tests. Beside him, Anne is decidedly calmer, her free hand rubbing circles on Harry’s back in a futile attempt to soothe him.

“You must’ve gotten the wrong results,” Harry says for what feels like the millionth time since they have received his diagnosis. He turns pleading eyes to the gynecologist who checked him out. The petite woman shakes her head sadly at Harry. “Right? Yes, that’s it. I-I can’t be pregnant.”

“Isn’t this a good thing for you and Zayn, love?” Anne attempts to comfort her distressed son. “A little unexpected but not wholly unwelcomed, right?”

“Zayn is barely talking to me these days,” Harry covers his face with both of his hands, sighing heavily, shoulders caving in. He looks smaller than he truly is. “I’m not sure how he’ll take this new development, mum.”

The doctor quietly excuses herself to get Harry’s prescription of vitamins. Anne gives her a polite smile, thankful that she is giving them a few minutes alone to talk. Harry starts crying then, which horrifies him and surprises his mother, who isn’t used to seeing her son shed a tear let alone full on cry. Anne gathers Harry’s body against her in a warm embrace, cooing softly into his ear.

“Everything will be okay.”

“He’ll hate me for sure.”

Anne shakes her head fervently and pats Harry’s back gently. “Nonsense,” she replies, fierce and confident. Zayn will understand. He has to. “Pull yourself together, okay Haz? Let’s get you home and settled. This amount of stress is bad for you and the baby.”

Harry whimpers loudly at the mention of the little human growing inside of him. He presses closer to his mother when the door opens and the doctor returns with his medicine. She glances at Harry and almost considers sedating him as he is extremely distressed, which she knows isn’t good for him in his current condition.

The gynecologist sits down and scribbles more things into Harry’s prescription before passing it to Anne. She sighs softly. “Mrs. Malik, please do calm down. You’re stressing yourself out and it’s not good for you or the baby.”

Not wanting to harm his child, Harry takes deep breaths, putting a lot of effort into calming down. He rubs his eyes to get rid of the remaining tears. “S-sorry.”

A relieved, kind smile is what the doctor offers. “Right. If there are no other questions, you may go,” she says. “Do not forget your vitamins and I’ll see you on your 12th week, Mrs. Malik.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Anne shakes the gynecologist’s hand and Harry does the same before they head out of the clinic.

On the way to the bus stop, Anne cannot contain her true emotions any longer. “I’m really happy for you two,” she grins widely, reaching for her son’s hand and squeezing it tightly. “Although, this comes as a shocker, I am really grateful for the opportunity to have a grandchild with you and Zayn.”

Unable to resist his mother’s happiness, Harry lets a tiny smile lift the corners of his mouth at her enthusiasm. “Isn’t Raf enough of a trouble, mum?” he teases, referring to Gemma’s little troublemaker of a son, Raphael. “He’s already a handful at 4.”

Anne laughs. “Can’t imagine a child from you and Zayn to be as…loud and playful as Gem’s, if I’m honest.”

“I’m slightly offended, mum.”

“Harry Edward Styles, since when are you a sassy mouth?” Anne playfully chides, bumping Harry with her hips. The knot of worry in her chest slowly unwinds when Harry lets out a soft laugh in response. “You know exactly what I mean. Zayn is quiet and thoughtful and, although a bit of a social butterfly, you’re also very reserved, love. You prefer to listen than talk. I’m sure your son or daughter will be inheriting those traits.”

Harry nods, unconsciously setting a gentle hand over his flat tummy. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be a parent.”

“No one is, for the first time,” Anne says in agreement. She and Harry sit down and wait for their bus. “But, you have Zayn. There’s also Liam, Niall and Louis. Gemma, Robin and I are here to help you, as well. You have us and together, we can do this.”

Harry lays his head on his mum’s shoulder, taking comfort in her quiet strength and, finally, he allows himself to think positively of this baby, this tiny would-be addition to the life that he and Zayn are slowly building together.

He couldn’t wait to meet this child.

 

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

 

The sound of their front door opening and closing has Zayn’s heart beating faster, a nervous sort of energy radiating around him. He lowers the volume of the television and stands up to greet his husband. Zayn meets Harry in the foyer, who is currently taking his coat and shoes off. Wordlessly, Zayn takes Harry’s coat from his hands and hangs it up. When turns back around, he sees Harry smiling at him, looking beautiful as ever with pink cheeks and bright eyes. Zayn thinks he is a proper idiot for hurting him.

“Are you hungry?” Harry asks him, kissing his cheeks as his way of greeting. He walks towards the kitchen, making this adorably surprised face when he catches sight of the cooking show that Zayn is watching because Zayn once confessed to disliking such for they make him hungry. He turns to Zayn in question, which Zayn shrugs to as a reply. Depositing a small paper bag on top of their table, Harry giggles softly, shrugs as well and pulls off the hair tie from his wrist, using it to put his long hair up in a bun.

Zayn leans against the doorway of their kitchen, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t have to cook, babe. We can order pizza or something.”

Harry pauses from his task of pouring water into a glass. “You sure?” he cocks his head to the side and sets the pitcher down.

“Yeah. I’m in the mood for some pizza and beer tonight, anyway.”

An expression of delight crosses Harry’s face. Zayn can swear on his life and their marriage that Harry’s face fucking glowed for a second there. He enters the kitchen properly, coming to stand beside Harry. “Do you think they still have Beef Fajita?”

Zayn’s own lips quirk up in a smile. He pats Harry’s head fondly and moves his hand down to cup his cheek in his palm. Harry leans into his touch. “We’ll get whatever you want, love.”

Two boxes and a half of pizza later, Zayn is nursing his third bottle of beer and Harry is laughing softly to James Corden’s humor. During the start of their meal, Zayn is a little confused as to why Harry adamantly refused a bottle of his favorite Heineken, but he chalks it up to Harry’s gender change, thinking that perhaps his female hormones are messing up his preferences.

Right now, Harry is getting up and collecting their pizza boxes and Zayn, with alcohol in his system and feeling confident to talk about his emotions, says, “Kinda like back in our university days, yeah?”

Harry hums, encouraging him to continue even if he exits the living room to throw away the trash.

“You,” Zayn continues before a big gulp of his beer. “Me. Pizza and beer. Brings me back to the days where I would suck you off, a pillow in your mouth to shut you up because Louis is sleeping next door.”

“Good days,” Harry agrees as he sits back down.

“Miss ‘em.”

Harry turns their television off and faces Zayn, determination in his eyes. “Zayn, we need to talk.” Harry grabs Zayn’s free hand and clutches it tightly.

“God,” Zayn whistles. He lets out a tiny hiccup and laughs at himself. Harry knows he’s a little bit tipsy, which explains his easygoing attitude. “I miss your dick, Haz. I fucking do.”

Too easygoing, quite frankly, Harry thinks to himself, frowning. “You’re being a twat right now, but I have something really important to tell you.”

The seriousness of the tone that Harry’s voice had taken immediately shuts Zayn up. He stares at Harry with big eyes, confused and a little lost. “What is it?”

“I know you hate this,” Harry pauses, swallowing. He gestures towards his body, now comfortably clad in an oversized hoodie and shorts, sweeping his hand up and down his body. Zayn lowers his eyes, too embarrassed that it is the truth. “You want my old body back.”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry inhales deeply and expels it out loud. “But, I might have to stay like this a bit longer.”

“Pardon?” Zayn replies, breathless. There is an expression of horror on his face and clear disbelief.

“Mum and I went to the doctors today,” Harry starts. “I’ve been feeling poorly these past few weeks, exhausted and dizzy…things like those. So, I’ve decided to get myself checked out, thought I was coming down with something. Turns out, it wasn’t a stomach bug or anything.”

Leaning towards Harry, Zayn places a trembling hand on his husband’s thigh, worried beyond belief. He is mentally berating himself for not noticing his husband’s poor health. “What was it then?”

“I…I’m pregnant.”

It is like all of the air in the room has been sucked out, time standing still. The beer bottle on Zayn’s hand slips down and drops to the floor, spilling golden liquid into their wooden floor. Harry risks a peek at his husband and finds him with his mouth half-open.

“Zayn?”

“I,” Zayn blurts out, eyebrows furrowed deeply. “I’m sorry, Haz.”

Harry almost falls out of the sofa in surprise. “Why’re you apologizing? You’re making this sound like you infected me with a terrible illness,” he chuckles lightly.

“Harry, tell me, why are you so calm about this?” Zayn cuts him off, glaring at his husband. He is furious. “Fuck. I’m here, a second away from losing my mind, and you act like this is some kind of a blessing in disguise!”

“But it is, isn’t it?” Harry insists, rubbing his stomach gently. Zayn’s traitorous eyes follow the movement. “I never thought that we’d get this chance to have a son or a daughter that is from our own flesh and blood. A child that we have created together. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Like hell it is,” Zayn snaps, standing up and pacing back and forth in front of Harry. “I’m okay with adopting, goddammit. I don’t want a baby of our own if it means spending another day without my husband beside me!”

“Then, what do you want me to do? Get rid of our child?”

Zayn throws his hands up in air. “Yes? Maybe. I don’t know! I just want my husband back! I want you back in your male body!”

Abruptly, Harry stands up and, although he hasn’t been taller than Zayn for a couple of months now ever since the change, Zayn still feels smaller than Harry when the younger man levels a dangerous look towards him. Zayn steps back but he holds Harry’s gaze.

“I guess you’ve been wallowing so deep in self-pity that you forget that I haven’t left your side ever since I’ve turned to a woman,” Harry hisses. The expression on his face is a combination of hurt and anger, it makes Zayn’s heart ache. “I’ve been here every single day, always waiting for you to come home.”

“Harry…”

“I’ve wanted to have a decent conversation with you for months now. But, no. All I’ve gotten are grunts and shrugs. Now, that we are finally talking properly, you blow up on me.” Harry’s voice cracks in the end and he is rubbing a hand over his chest, as if in doing so, he can expel the pain in it. “Well, I’m done, okay? Zayn, if you are finished being an arse, I would be upstairs taking a bath.”

With those parting words, Harry marches up the stairs and, seconds later, Zayn hears their bedroom door slam shut. Zayn snatches a pillow from the couch and muffles a frustrated scream into it before throwing it halfway across the room. The pillow hits a picture frame that is hung and Zayn watches it fall and break, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction from it. He does it again and again, throwing pillow after pillow to the walls and watching paintings and picture frames fall and break. Uncaring that he’s messing up their living room, Zayn continues pouring his anger out, breathing heavily.

Upstairs, Harry strips himself of his clothing, folds them nicely on top of the counter and submerges himself in the tub. He lets his hair hang on the side of the bathtub, as well as his arms. He heaves a long sigh and closes his eyes, relaxing in the vanilla-scented water despite the incredible noise downstairs. He knows Zayn will stop when he has let his anger out and it’ll only be in a few more minutes, so he doesn’t worry further.

And he’s right in his prediction because after a few more crashes and dull thuds, Harry allows himself a relieved sigh when he hears Zayn’s footsteps in their bedroom, the noise downstairs ceasing. A few minutes later, the door to the bathroom opens and closes softly. A disheveled Zayn approaches his husband, grabbing Harry’s coconut shampoo along the way. He uncaps the bottle, squeezes a good amount of the fragrant substance and kneels behind Harry. He gathers his husband’s slightly wet hair and starts massaging the shampoo into it.

“Are you done destroying our living room, Z?”

Zayn lets out a loud exhale of breath and nods, “Yeah.” He scratches Harry’s scalp softly and murmurs a quiet apology.

Harry chuckles a bit, eyes still blissfully closed when he says, “Good.”

Staring past Harry’s head, Zayn eyes his flat tummy, imagining it rounded with his child in the near future. Butterflies erupt in his stomach from the thought. “So,” he croaks. He grimaces and clears his throat. “You’re keeping this baby?”

Harry hums. “We’re keeping our child.”

Zayn has guessed as much. “Well then, I guess we still have a few months to learn how to properly hold him or her, yeah?”

“Enough time,” Harry grins, tilting his head up and opening his eyes to gaze at his husband. He blindly grapples for Zayn’s hand and beams even wider when the latter laces their fingers together. “More than enough.”


	7. Looking Up

The cool porcelain of the toilet bowl provides relief to Harry's heated cheek, quelling a bit of his unforgiving nausea. He scrunches his nose in distaste as he gets a whiff of the acrid smell of his own vomit. He sighs, sniffling miserably, his stomach rolling violently for the second time that early morning. He dry heaves into the toilet, gasping after each one, a few tears escaping out of the corners of his eyes. Distantly, he hears clattering in the kitchen and without a doubt, it is Zayn, probably making tea. Harry feels bad for waking him up when he's got work in 3 hours. He berates himself, knows he should have closed the door when he got up to puke earlier, but he couldn't do anything about it now because Zayn is already wide awake. Harry retches some more and groans. The door to the bathroom opens.

"Hey, baby."

It's Zayn and he's carrying a cup of ginger tea. He kneels behind Harry, gathers his unruly hair in one hand and uses the other to rub his back gently. "I made you a cuppa. Ginger tea. Mum says this'll help with the morning sickness."

Harry wipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his free hand, keeping his other one pressed over his mouth acting as if it can prevent him from throwing up once again. It isn't until a few more minutes later that he feels his stomach settle down enough to drink the tea that Zayn has prepared and he says a sincere prayer of thanks for it. He slumps back, putting all of his weight on Zayn. Sixteen weeks and he's still suffering from bouts of morning sickness. "Sorry I woke you up," he whispers softly, feeling Zayn press a kiss to the top of his head.

"Don't be silly," Zayn says fondly. He picks up the teacup, blows on top of it gently to cool it down some and gives it to Harry. "You should wake me up when you feel like throwing up because I want to. I want to be here to hold your hair and then rub your back. God, Haz, you're carrying our baby and suffering through all the symptoms of it. The least I could do is stay with you and make you feel better."

Harry takes a few sips of the tea, feeling its desired effect take action almost instantly. He relaxes against Zayn, eyes drooping with exhaustion. "I just feel bad," he admits. "I already passed the first trimester! Hell, I'm on my fourth month and I'm still getting sick. What if something's wrong?"

A hand finds its way into Harry's hair, rubbing his scalp gently. "I've been reading a lot about pregnancy and, well, they say some pregnant women just have it harder than the others. Morning sickness, I mean. They're more intense or summat. It's normal, love," Zayn soothes.

By now, Harry has finished his tea. "I see." He pulls away from Zayn, puts his teacup down and tries to stand up. Try being the keyword because as soon as he heaves himself up, he wobbles, the whole bathroom spinning in his vision. He flails around, blindly looking for something to hold on to. Luckily, Zayn catches him in an embrace.

"It's okay, love. I've got you."

Harry sighs softly, his breath fanning against Zayn's bare chest. "Thanks." With Zayn's help, he turns to the sink to wash his mouth. He swishes a mouthful of mouthwash, ridding his mouth free of the putrid aftertaste of vomit.

"Let's get you in back in bed."

Zayn maneuvers his and Harry's body towards the door, exiting the bathroom and entering their bedroom. He gently deposits his exhausted husband on top of the still unmade bed. Harry curls up almost instantly, exhaling loudly. Zayn covers Harry with the duvet, making sure that he is tucked in comfortably, before bending down to kiss his forehead.

"How're you feeling?"

"Like I've been asked to spin in a circle for bajillion times," Harry answers, offering a weak smile. "For something so advanced, one would think that by now science should have some form of a cure for morning sickness."

Zayn chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind Harry's ear. He tenderly caresses Harry's cheek. "I know."

"But, you know," Harry continues, his eyes now closed. "Whenever I remember the reason why I get so sick every morning, I feel a bit better. We got really lucky to be expecting a child of our own."

Zayn nods. He wants to lay down beside Harry and gather him in his arms but he remembers that he needs to feed his husband and himself first. Harry needs his breakfast, especially after being sick. "Very lucky," he agrees. "What do you want for breakfast, love?"

Harry peeks an eye open. "Nothing with eggs, please."

"How about oats with berries? I think we have some strawberries and blueberries in the fridge."

There is a thoughtful hum and then Harry nods, both of his eyes opening. "I also want toast, Z. And some more of that ginger tea."

"Your wish is my command." Zayn bows, grinning when his actions elicit a sweet giggle out of Harry.

With a parting kiss to Harry's lips, Zayn makes his way downstairs and to the kitchen. He pulls out bread, butter, milk, oats, and berries, and lays them out on the counter. He contemplates making himself scrambled egg but decides against it, not wanting to agitate Harry's sensitive nose and make him sick once again. So, Zayn scraps that idea and settles on toast and coffee for himself

On the stovetop, Zayn heats up a saucepan, pouring a cup of milk in it. While he waits for the milk to boil, Zayn busies himself with dumping the rest of his grated ginger into a teapot and adding hot water on it. He lets it steep and moves on to buttering his bread slices. He adds two extra slices for himself, putting them into the bread toaster and setting the timer. By this time, the milk is boiling, so he stirs in half a cup of the oats and lowers the heat. Zayn continuously moves the wooden spoon around the oats to make sure they don't stick to the bottom of the pan. After a few minutes, he hears the toaster's loud ding and abandons the oats to stack the hot pieces of bread onto a plate. He sets those on the table. Zayn rummages through the cupboards for a bowl, letting out a triumphant sound once he locates one. He turns the fire off and scrapes the oats from the saucepan and into the bowl. Humming, Zayn pours the finished tea into another teacup, making a mental note to pick up the one that he has used earlier off the bathroom floor before the two of them get seriously hurt over it. Knowing Harry and his clumsy tendencies, his husband will most likely step on it and cut his feet.

Zayn shakes his head at that. He will not go there, towards those thoughts of Harry getting hurt. Slightly irritated, he starts preparing Harry's ginger tea, stirring in a teaspoon of honey into it. He puts the teacup next to Harry's bowl of oats. He then makes his way over to the sink, grabs the pack of strawberries and blueberries and washes them quickly. He cuts off the top part of the strawberries afterwards and drops them into the chopping board. With a sigh, he puts the berries on top of the cooked oatmeal in a pattern, couldn't resist going that extra mile for Harry and their unborn child. Satisfied with his breakfast spread, Zayn nods once to himself, turns the coffee maker on and goes upstairs to wake Harry up.

"Hazza," he coos, rubbing a dozing Harry's back. He presses a kiss on both of his husband's pink cheeks. "Breakfast is ready, H. Let's eat."

Harry groans softly, unfurling his body like an overgrown cat. Sleepy eyes and a shadow of a dimple greets Zayn as his husband slowly surfaces from his slumber and into wakefulness. "Hey."

"Good morning, lovely," Zayn greets softly, brushing the hair away from Harry's face.

"Mmm, morning, Z."

The couple descend the stairs together, their hands intertwined. Zayn presses his free hand on Harry's lower back, carefully guiding him to the dining room. Once inside, Zayn swells with pride when he sees the delight in Harry's green eyes upon seeing the breakfast spread that Zayn has prepared. He pulls out a chair for Harry to sit on and then occupies the seat next to it.

"Eat up, baby."

"Babies," Harry grins with a poorly executed wink. He picks his spoon up to scoop a generous amount of the oatmeal and shoves it inside his mouth with a pleased hum.

"What?" Zayn laughs. He stands up to pour himself a cup of coffee, stirring two teaspoons of sugar into it and a bit of milk. He sits back down and reaches for a toast, nibbling on it.

Harry smiles at him, cheeks rounded with food. Zayn itches to wrap him up in his arms, press kisses to his unruly hair and cuddle him silly. Before answering, Harry swallows the food in his mouth and licks his lips. "You have two babies now. Me and our little baby inside." He points to the small, gentle swell of his pregnant belly, beaming with pride.

Playfully, Zayn lets out a loud sound of mock surprise, his mouth opened. He rubs his palm gently over Harry's baby bump and apologizes to their unborn child, "I'm sorry, little baby. Daddy is a big donut for forgetting you."

Harry giggles, this happy flutter of a sound that Zayn wishes to capture and keep in his pocket for the times that life gets a little bit difficult and he misses the warmth and peace that Harry gives him.

"Zayn, I think I'd like to be called Poppy by our future son or daughter and Mama if I get stuck in this body forever."

"Daddy and Poppy," Zayn tests the names out, a soothing kind of warmth spreading throughout his chest with the thought of him and Harry as parents. Stubbornly, he ignores the part about Harry staying a woman for the rest of their lives. "Love them, babe."

"I knew you would." Harry is beaming, his pink lips stretched over his teeth and Zayn wants to say he has more self-control, can resist kissing him senseless. Alas, when faced with his favorite smile on his husband's face, he is weak. So, he leans forward and kisses Harry, tasting strawberries and ginger on his tongue. Harry moans softly, pressing his body closer against Zayn's, their unborn child snug between their bodies.

They part after a few seconds, breathless and flushed. Harry gazes at Zayn with wonder in his eyes. "What was that all about?"

Zayn shrugs, grinning. "Nothing," he responds. "I just love you."

A rush of blood fills Harry's cheeks, turning them a soft pink. He looks overly fond, smiling at Zayn with sparkling eyes.

"I love you, too."

"And, I may not show it often, but I'm incredibly thankful for that," Zayn says sincerely, tucking a stray lock of Harry's hair behind his ear. He runs his thumbs over the younger's warm cheeks tenderly. "Finish your breakfast soon because we'll be going out with Louis, El and Zeke to the park for that lunch picnic that we've planned."

"But, Zayn. Work?"

"Love, it's a Sunday." Zayn pecks Harry's lips repeatedly just because he can and he wants to. He really does.

Harry perks up at that. "Are Niall and Liam going, too?"

"Of course." Zayn nods. He takes a big gulp of his lukewarm coffee and finishes his toast. "They'll be bringing cupcakes, remember? The ones you like?"

"Karen's red velvet cupcakes! And baby Zeke!"

"That's right," Zayn chuckles. He stands up, seeing as Harry is done with his oatmeal and toasts.  He collects their used chinaware and silverware and loads them into the dishwasher. He turns the machine on for it to do its work and then wipes the table down for any leftover crumbs. He has just hung the dishtowel on a drying rack when he feels arms settle themselves snug around his waist. Seconds after, a face presses itself on his back.

"Thanks for breakfast, Zayn," Harry says softly, a smile visibly evident in the tone of his voice.

"You're welcome, love."

Harry squeezes Zayn and then lets go. He steps to Zayn's left, peeks at Zayn's face and leans forward to press a quick kiss to his husband's lips. He beams at the surprised look that Zayn has. "I'll go shower and change clothes for our picnic!"

Zayn shakes his head at Harry's enthusiasm, smiling to himself. He hears the bedroom door swing open and shut as Harry reached their bedroom. He busies himself with cleaning the coffee maker when the thought of the teacup on the bathroom floor pops into his mind. He gasps and snaps his fingers before padding towards the foot of the stairs in a hurry.

Zayn hollers, "Be careful, babe. I left the teacup on the floor. Put it in front of the door, Haz, alright?"

Upstairs, there is a clatter of the teacup being placed on the hallway. "Done," Harry hollers back.

A relieved sigh swooshes past Zayn's lips, his shoulders dropping as soon as he knows that Harry is safe. Deciding to relax a bit as Harry gets ready for their group picnic, Zayn makes his way to their den to watch his shows. He drops himself on the couch, remote control in hand, and wishes for this day to be a good one for him and Harry.

 

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

 

On his twentieth week, Harry says, "I think our little baby is going to be a boy."

Zayn looks up from the piles of paper in front of him to raise an eyebrow at Harry, who is currently curled up on their bed with one of his many pregnancy books, looking cuddly in his ratty college org shirt and Zayn's trackies. This afternoon, his long hair is down, slightly damp from the shower that he had earlier. He's so ridiculously lovely and Zayn thinks Harry's pregnancy glow is not merely a hint of light from within but a dazzling sparkle, a bloody supernova.

"Why do you think so? I didn't hear you ask Dr. Ward about it when you've had your latest check-up."

Harry shrugs and rubs his growing belly. "I didn't ask her, wanted to keep it as a surprise. Honestly, I'm not really sure why I think our baby's a boy," he says. "I reckon this is what they call a mother's intuition. Like, there's this feeling that we're going to have a son."

"Well then." Zayn smiles. "I cannot wait to see him."

"What do you want to have, though, Z?"

"Any of the two is fine," Zayn shrugs. He says it so only because it's true. He is alright with a son, who has curls, brown eyes and Harry's lips, that he can fake wrestle and take out to watch superhero movies with. He is also good with a baby girl, who has pretty green eyes and shiny black hair, to be his princess, wearing tiny dresses and tutu and ballerina shoes. Both options make Zayn's heart pound with yearning and love. "All I want is for our child to be healthy."

"Me too."

A couple of minutes of comfortable silence pass by with Zayn working quietly, highlighting important lines on the case file that he is reading and Harry busying himself with his pregnancy book. When Zayn looks back up, though, he sees his husband sprawled out on the bed, book discarded on his side with his head tilted up. He thinks Harry has dozed off, which isn't a very far off thought because these past few days, Harry has been terribly exhausted and naps randomly during the course of the day, but is proven wrong when Harry speaks up, "That picnic we've had a month ago was really fun. I enjoyed it."

Although what Harry said is pretty random, not to mention sort of a late reaction, it still gets a pleased smile from Zayn. "I wouldn't have guessed," he teases, remembering the way Harry looked with baby Zeke cuddled against his chest, cooing to the little boy in the softest voice Zayn has ever heard him use. It was breathtaking, the way Harry interacted with the baby and Zayn can only imagine how devoted he will be with his own flesh and blood. "I thought you forgot about Lou, El and I with the way you kept Zeke all to yourself, babe."

Harry chuckles, pulling the pillow underneath his head and smothering his face with it. Then, he rolls to his side, 5-month belly peeking through his shirt, and beams at Zayn. "He's so adorable, Zayn," he gushes. "He makes the cutest little sounds and smiles at me with his toothless mouth—ugh."

Zayn laughs. He stands up and presses a paperweight on top of the papers that he has been reading before shuffling over to where Harry is. He sits down beside him and runs a hand through Harry's hair. "Calm down, babe," he tells Harry with an endeared smile. "You only have a few months to go before our little boy or girl arrives and then you can have all the 'cutest little sounds' and 'toothless smiles' that you want."

Harry swats at Zayn's hands when he makes the quotation marks in the air at certain words, laughing. He scoots close to Zayn and lays his head on his lap. "Time flies by so fast," he muses thoughtfully. "I feel like it was only yesterday when I woke up with big tits and a—oops!"

"Harry Edward Styles!" Zayn yelps, pinching Harry's bum as punishment. "Watch your mouth, love. There are little ears in this room and this time they're not yours."

Harry's pair of cute little ears is a long standing inside joke between the two of them. Harry is really sensitive about his ears, often covering them up with his hair. Zayn, on the other hand, love Harry's little ears and says so every chance he can get.

"I'm sorry!" Harry squeaks, muffling his laughter behind his hand. He doesn't sound repentant at his choice of words, not at all, hasn't even reacted to the jibe towards his ears, so Zayn decides to up his punishment by getting his fingers on Harry's side and tickling him mercilessly. Merry giggles and Harry's breathless gasps immediately fill the room up.

"Ah, you are just so sweet," Zayn coos, not stopping his tickling fingers even when Harry starts yelling for mercy. He laughs along with his red-faced husband and expertly dodges the flailing limbs. However, he abruptly stops the tickles when he hears the unmistakable sound of a fart. Harry's fart to be exact.

"Did you just fart?" Zayn says, astonished.

Harry guffaws, clearly possessing no shame, whatsoever. "Better in than out, yeah?"

A laugh is startled out of Zayn and he collapses against his husband at the intensity of it. "Oh my god," he says in between wheezing and gasping. "That's the first time you farted in front of me, Haz!" And it's true. Harry is either not a naturally gassy person or he just likes to let it out when Zayn is not around.

"We've reached a milestone in our relationship, Zayn," Harry giggles. He wraps his arms around Zayn and cuddles up against him. "Should have recorded it."

Zayn nods. He calms down and is about to suggest a nap for the two of them when a series of annoying knocks come from their front door. He looks at Harry with confusion. "Were you expecting someone today, love?"

Harry shakes his head. "No."

"Well, I don't remember inviting someone over as well," Zayn informs his husband. He swings his legs to the side of the bed and gets up. "I'll go check it out. Go take a nap, babe. You look tired."

Harry stands up, though. "I'll come with you."

Together, they take the short trip from their bedroom to the front door, a bit slower than usual due to the multiple pauses that they've had to take because Harry gets out of breath quickly. Once in front of their door, Zayn takes a peek on their peephole and sees two heads huddled together, one full of brown hair and the other a bright blond. Liam and Niall, obviously.

"Who is it, Z?"

"Liam and Niall."

Zayn swings the door open and gets greeted by a loud popping sound and then confetti. "What?"

"Happy baby shower, Harry!" Liam and Niall sing, barging inside their house with a bunch of green balloons and two perfectly wrapped gifts.

Harry beams widely. "Thank you!"

"Is that how you greet a pregnant person on their baby shower, Liam?" Niall asks, genuinely confused.

Louis answers for Liam as he pushes them aside using his hips. In his hands are a box of cake and a large paper bag with a well-known baby store's logo printed on it. "Yes, Niall. Now, if you can please help me unload some more of the stuff we brought, that'd be quite lovely."

Niall takes the balloons from Liam and tells him to put their gifts down the floor. Liam complies easily, kisses Niall and then Harry's cheek before he slips out of the house, jogging down the pathway and to Louis's car.

"Where do we put the gifts, Zayn?" Niall questions. He gets silence, so he tries a different route. "Haz?"

Zayn snaps out of his surprise and looks at his friend with a stern gaze. "What's the meaning of this?"

"I told you," Niall replies, patient, even as his hands hurt from holding the balloons for so long. "This is Harry's baby shower. We wanted to surprise you both. So."

"Oh, Niall, you lot are so thoughtful," Harry says with a sniff.

Ugh, Zayn internally scoffs, pushing Niall to the general direction of their living room. He grabs Harry's hand and gently tugs him along.

At the living room, Niall lets the balloons go and they float to rest gently on the ceiling. Harry watches with wide eyes, awed. The youngest has always been easily astonished and perpetually cheery, always up for a party and other celebrations. Next, their blond friend deposits his and Liam's present on top of the coffee table.

"Who else are coming?" Zayn asks, seeing Liam and Louis pass by the hallway, bringing in tupperware after tupperware of food.

Niall plops down on the couch. "Your dad, mum and sisters, Robin, Anne, Gems and Raf, My mum and dad, Geoff and Karen, Jay and the kids, El and Zeke."

Harry's expression is that of excitement. "That's alot of people," he says with a grin.

"Yep," Niall agrees. He looks at Harry and Zayn's comfortable house clothes with a laugh. "Erm, you might wanna change, though."

Zayn sighs heavily. "Let's go, babe," he calls Harry. Then, he locks eyes with Niall. "Don't break anything or else."

Niall raises two thumbs up in agreement before rummaging inside the small paper bag that he has with him.

Upstairs, Zayn picks out a pair of dark denim jeans and a clean shirt for himself. For Harry, he decides on this loose olive green maxi dress that Doniya insisted on buying for Harry.

"He'd look pretty on this, trust me," She had told Zayn when she dropped by a few days ago. "Also, this is an appropriate and comfortable dress for pregnant women. You'll both thank me later for this."

Harry wanders back into their bedroom, face fresh and hair in a neat bun. He is wearing a cream-colored bra and panties, his big pregnant tummy on full display. Zayn instantly forgets his annoyance on being disturbed by his family and friends. Harry is too cute.

"Wear this, H."

Harry examines the piece of clothing. He picks it up and stretches the waist part, nodding to himself. "Alright."

Zayn and Harry get dressed and finish at the same time. Zayn admires the soft curve of Harry's hips through the dress. "You look amazing, my love."

Harry smiles shyly and links their arms together. "So do you. As always."

They share a quick, sweet kiss before showing themselves to their family downstairs. Once the two of them stepped foot inside the living room, the women all flock around them, most especially Harry, who is absolutely happy to absorb the attention. Trisha and Anne both have a hand on Harry's baby bump, grins on each of their faces.

Zayn shakes his head fondly at their mums before venturing further into the space. He chuckles at the banner that is now hanging haphazardly on top of their fireplace and reads the words scribbled in different colors: _Congratulations on the baby!_

"Psst, Zayn." Louis crooks a finger, beckoning Zayn to come closer. He makes a show of looking around for eavesdropping people before whispering, "What are you having? A boy or a girl?"

"Hey! We deserve to know, too," Liam protests pushing his face closer. Behind his muscular frame is his own husband, nodding along.

Looking past them and to his, now thankfully seated, husband, Zayn smirks. "It's a surprise."

Louis groans loudly, slapping his palm against his forehead. "I swear you and Harry are, like, the lamest couple ever. Who goes through pregnancy blind, Zayn? How will you decorate the nursery?"

Niall hums in agreement. "True," he says. "Plus, did you know that it was such a hassle shopping for a gift? Liam and I kept picking two of the same things, one for a girl and one for a boy. Only to put it back because, shit man, baby stuff are bloody expensive!"

"Imagine buying them twice," Liam chimes in with solemn eyes.

Zayn shrugs at his mates. "Then, buy things that are color-neutral, lads."

"We know," Louis replies, gesturing around them to indicate the abundance of the color green in the living room, from the balloons, the tarpaulin and the gifts. "El suggested we go for your favorite color."

"Thank God for Eleanor."

"Louis."

"Speaking of the devil," Louis groans. "Coming, babe!"

The three young men watch in amusement as Eleanor passes their fussing son to his father's arms. From their place, they can hear her rattling instructions about bottle-feeding Zeke. Louis nods every now and then, serious.

"So."

"Hmm?"

"How does this baby shower work?"

Niall's eyes widen. "Erm, maybe we should just watch and follow the women."

"Good idea, mate."

And so, throughout the night, Zayn, Liam and Niall keep their eyes on the women and follow their moves. The night passes by smoothly. They fill up with the delicious food that the mothers lovingly made while trading funny stories ranging from pregnancy ones to embarrassing childhood memories. By the end of the night, Zayn swears his heart is about to burst from so much happiness and affection for the people surrounding him, Harry and their little unborn child. It's insane.

"Gift giving time!" Trisha announces around 8 in the evening. Everyone is packed inside the living room, full and content. Zayn's mum and dad pick up a rather large box and deposit it gently on the couple's feet. Harry positively buzzes with excitement as he tears the wrapping apart to reveal a brand new cot.

"Thank you so much, mum and dad," Harry murmurs sincerely, running a hand on the surface of the box. "Our little baby will have the comfiest sleep ever for sure."

Zayn sends his mum and dad air kisses and a grateful smile.

Next to hand their gift over is Anne and Robin. The first gift is Harry's very own Moses basket when he was born. It is very well-kept, the material still strong and the thin mattress clean. Next to the Moses basket is a brand new pram and, by now, Harry's eyes are glassy with happy tears.

"You lot are spoiling us," Harry whines playfully, which earns laughter from the adults.

The gifts are nothing but the best and exactly what Zayn and Harry need for their child. Gemma's gift are mostly linens needed for the baby, like towels and bibs plus baby pillows, their cases with matching bedsheets. Doniya's gift is a stylish, leather diaper bag, complete with bottles, dummies and diapers. Jay has gifted them with a bathtub for newborns while Lottie and her sisters provided several large bottles of the baby shampoo and packs of wet wipes. Liam's parents' gift is a bottle sterilizer and more baby bottles.

"Finally," Louis chirps when it is his turn to hand his gift over. He brings the paper bag he has with him and gives it to Zayn.

Zayn opens the bag to see a bunch of tiny newborn clothes: one-pieces, bodysuits and pants. He pulls one out and chuckles at the _made with love_ written in front of the pastel-colored onesie.

"Zayn!" Harry squeals, grabbing some more clothes from the bag and looking at them with wide eyes. "That is so adorable! Thanks Louis and Eleanor."

Eleanor grins. "You're welcome, H."

Liam and Niall are the last ones to give their gifts. Harry starts crying when he sees a collection of small knitted mittens, hats and socks. "These are so c-cute," Harry sniffles. "I'm sorry for crying. Ugh."

Anne pats her son's head gently. "Hormones," she sing-songs and the other mothers all agree.

"Actually, that is our first gift," Liam informs Harry once he stopped crying. There is a crinkly-eyed smile on his face. "We have a second one with Louis."

"What is it?" Zayn asks, excited himself.

"Here."

It is a piece of paper with printed words in it. Zayn and Harry read it out loud:

_Best Mates Voucher_

_Redeem unlimited help with building your child's nursery room. This voucher entitles you to wall painting, furniture building, moving and hanging jobs for an unlimited amount of time from your three best mates._

Underneath the paragraph are Liam, Louis and Niall's name and signatures.

Zayn's lips stretch into a wide smile. "Thanks, lads."

Harry opens his arms for a hug. "C'mere you big donuts!"

The five best mates share a tight group hug and in the middle of it all, Harry whispers a soft, "I love you, guys."

Later that night, after everyone has gone home and the gifts are safely piled in the guest room, Harry and Zayn are cuddled up on their bed. Zayn is stripped down to his boxers while Harry is swallowed by one of his sweaters and shorts cut out from ratty sweatpants. On the verge of unconsciousness, Harry has his eyes closed and his side pressed along Zayn's warm body.

"Both of our mums are betting on a boy," Harry murmurs softly. "Gemma, Lottie and Doniya are positive it's a girl. Jay and Karen are saying I could have twins."

Zayn presses his grin on Harry's curly hair while the hand that he has on Harry's tummy rubs gentle circles on it. "Lou, Liam and Niall think we're lame for wanting the gender to be a surprise."

Harry giggles. "Twats."

"Language again, H."

"Sorry, babe."

"Today's a pretty good day, innit?"

"Yeah."

"I'm pretty sure tomorrow's going to be even better." Zayn yawns widely. "Good night, my babies. I love you both."

"We love you, too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are Zayn and Harry having a boy or a girl? Possibly twins? We'll know soon enough. Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it x
> 
> (I'll try not to take, like, a month to update.)


	8. Craving

"Zayn, please wake up."

There is a sense of panic and a bit of urgency in Harry's tone of voice that Zayn couldn't help but to latch upon. In an incredible display of reflexes, despite it being so early in the morning, Zayn bolts upright in bed, almost knocking his head against Harry's chin, and asks, quite blearily, "What is it?"

Harry smiles at Zayn then, all cheery and best intentions, as if he hadn't woken Zayn up in an ungodly hour on a Sunday. His eyes are bright and wide, greener even in the weak morning light filtering through the gaps in the curtains. Zayn groans for he knows exactly what this is.

"Can you please go to the store for me?" Harry asks at length. He looks slightly sheepish, guilty for always sending Zayn to do his shopping. "I could go for some sour cream and onion crisps right now."

"Have you checked downstairs?" Zayn says with a frown, not really in the mood to go out this early in the morning for crisps. He turns his back to Harry, trying to go back to sleep. "I think we have some cheese-flavored crisps there."

"But, I want sour cream and onion, Zayn," Harry, as expected, whines. He nudges Zayn's shin with his icy toes. "Please, love."

Making no move against Harry's assault, Zayn feels the claws of slumber gripping him. He welcomes them for he is truly exhausted. Harry has been so unbearable these days, from his constant cravings to his split second mood swings, not to mention the added stress of finishing the nursery and keeping it as a surprise to the pregnant Harry; Zayn is at the end of his patience, wishing for all of this to be a dream that he can wake up from.

On the other hand, Harry is getting pretty upset. He's got some strong cravings for sour cream and onion crisps and he wants them now. He doesn't understand why Zayn is being difficult and refuses to go out to buy a bag when the nearest convenience store is just around the corner. Harry is well aware that he can buy the crisps on his own but he is pregnant and his feet are aching. He'd like to believe that he won't be surviving a 10-minute walk with his swollen feet, so nope. Zayn, not pregnant and blessed with two functioning, not swollen feet, must buy the food for him.

He shakes Zayn by the shoulder. "Zayn."

The only response is a snore and Zayn snuggling further into the warm blankets that he has wrapped around himself.

Harry glares at his husband's back and, in a fit of annoyance, kicks him off the bed. Zayn lands on the floor with a thud and a yelp of pain.

"What the fuck, Harry?" Zayn questions incredulously. He gets up and rubs his aching forehead. He sees Harry on top of their bed, pouting with his arms crossed. "Did you have to do that?"

Harry only turns his nose up higher in the air, almost looking down on Zayn. "Yes," he says. "Your little baby and I are hungry for some crisps but you aren't buying us any."

"Jesus Christ." Zayn rubs a hand across his face and then gets up with a scowl. "Fine, I'll buy your bloody crisps!"

As if a switched is flipped, the sour expression on Harry's face morphs into that of great excitement, a wide grin replacing the thin line of his lips. He grabs his debit card from the side table and hands it over to Zayn. Zayn snatches the card from his husband's hand and grumbles all the way to the bathroom. He makes a quick work of splashing water on his face and gargling a mouthful of Listerine. Afterwards, Zayn re-enters the bedroom, finding Harry nowhere in sight. With a shrug, Zayn changes into appropriate clothes, throwing on a plain tee underneath a thick sweater and a pair of straight-cut denim jeans. He runs a hand through his hair and goes downstairs.

As Zayn passes through the foyer, he sees Harry resting on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket with his long hair wild on top of his head.

"I'm going out."

"Don't be too long," Harry responds, smiling at Zayn. "Stay safe."

Zayn grunts, shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers. Stepping outside, Zayn's body gives a full on shudder against the unforgiving cold. He sighs softly, watching his breath cloud in fromt of him and makes a right turn, trudging towards the convenience store. He makes the short ten-minute trip without any mishap and proceeds to peruse the snacks aisle. Zayn grabs two big bags of sour cream and onion crisps, a pack of popcorn and soda crackers. He then takes his purchases to the counter.

"Good morning," the teenager manning the cashier smiles widely, pretty energetic for the morning. She reaches for the pack of popcorn first and runs it by the scanning machine, following it are the bag of crisps and then the crackers.

"Hey," Zayn replies with a nod. He eyes the boxes of fag behind the girl and an idea for revenge pops into his mind. "Give me 5 packs of those." He points to the black box of marlboro mint before picking 3 sticks of gum. "And these, too."

The cashier girl nods and scans the additional items. She then rattles off Zayn's total.

Zayn hands Harry's debit card over to the girl, feeling some sort of thrill regarding his revenge against his husband. He taps a rhythm on the counter as he waits. He enters the PIN number for the card and a few minutes later he's on his way home, a big plastic bag on his hand.

"That'll teach Harry some lesson."

Much like earlier, Zayn reaches their home after a ten-minute walk. He knocks on their door and waits for Harry to open it. He doesn't have to wait for long because a few seconds later, Harry swings the door open, smiling at him.

"You're back!" he chirps. He eyes the bag that Zayn is carrying and makes grabby hands for it. "My crisps!"

Chuckling, Zayn heads inside their house. He takes his coat and shoes off before going to the kitchen. Harry is hot on his heels, following behind his husband with a skip to his step. Once they enter the kitchen, Zayn opens the shopping bag and pulls the large bags of crisps that he has bought. He puts them on top of the table and grins when Harry lets out a happy squeal and snatches them away.

"Thanks, Z!"

"No problem, love," Zayn answers. He then pulls the boxes of fags out of the bag, laying them on the table.

The loud rustling of the bag of crisps as Harry opens it stops abruptly. Then, "What are those?"

Zayn pretends to smile innocently, looking at Harry with wide eyes. "Hmm?"

"Why in the bloody hell do you have 5 boxes of fags, Zayn? You told me you were quitting," Harry says loudly, almost yelling at the end of his question. His face is beginning to get red in anger and he drops the food carelessly on top of the dining table. "You didn't use my money to buy those things, did you?"

Zayn shrugs. He picks a box up and tears the plastic seal that is covering it. He is about to pull one stick out when the box is slapped out of his grasp. The black box falls with a thud onto the kitchen floor.

"What the fuck, Harry?" Zayn glares at his husband, angry.

"I asked you a question and you should answer it, you arse," Harry retorts, furious himself.

"Of fucking course I bought these using your money!" Zayn yells, outraged. He gestures angrily to the food and the fags. "What do you expect me to do when you woke me up in the fucking wee hours of a Sunday to buy you food! Don't you think I deserve to buy something for myself?"

Harry splutters. "You're seriously going to go there? News flash, Zayn, I'm pregnant! With your child! I did not intentionally wake you up from your beauty sleep just to make you buy me food."

Zayn snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've got two working feet," he says. "You could've went to the store yourself."

"Oh my god." Harry gapes. With much difficulty, he bends down to pick up the opened pack of cigarettes. He shoves it inside the plastic bag and thrusts the bag back into Zayn's hands. "I want you to return these things to the store."

"Are you mental?" Zayn growls. He throws the plastic bag on the table, its contents spilling out. Then, he stomps his way to the living room, fuming.

Harry follows him. "What's your problem, Zayn?" he asks, slightly out of breath.

Zayn spins around, his normally kind brown eyes blazing with anger. He points at Harry and murmurs, "You."

Harry feels his heart sink. "M-me?"

"Yes," Zayn growls. Right now, he's too angry to care about the things that he's saying. He's been keeping these emotions bottled up inside him for months now and he's a ticking time bomb, just ready to blow up. "I miss my husband!"

"But," Harry tries to cut off, suddenly weak. He wants to remind Zayn that he hasn't left his side. However, Zayn, it seems, has already reached the end of his rope and there is no reasoning with him right now.

"I want him back! I want my Harry back! The one with a dick and not these fucking soft tits and a pussy."

"Zayn...please."

There's anger and overwhelming pain living in Zayn's eyes when Harry catches sight of them. It frightens Harry enough to take a few steps back.

"I hate you! I tried so hard to accept that female body but it's so hard! Fuck! I need my male husband back."

Harry isn't the type to cry so easily. However, Zayn's words cut deep and, combined with his hormones being all over the place, he's crying by the time Zayn finishes his rant. He bites his lip to fight the escape of his sobs, wishing Zayn will stop, notice him and just gather him in his arms for a hug.

Zayn plops heavily on top of their couch, shaking. He is quiet for a few moments before exploding once more, anger renewed. "I hate it so much. Your body...it's not...it's different. I loathe it. I just want you to go back to being your true self, Harry. I can't imagine spending years with a woman by my side and not the man that I've married."

There is a terrible crash as Zayn kicks their coffee table down, magazines scattering onto the carpeted floor. He breathes heavily, exhausted. A few minutes has passed when Zayn decides to look up. He expects Harry to still be standing at the doorway, but to his surprise, he isn't. Zayn gets up quickly and scans their house for his pregnant husband. He feels cold dread creep up his spine.

Harry's gone.  
  
  


**  
  
  


"Harry?"

Trisha Malik couldn't help but stare at Harry in surprise, pushing the door of their home wider to let her son-in-law in. She feels her concern grow as she notices that Harry is not dressed properly for the weather. He is clad in a pair of thin pajamas with a coat thrown haphazardly on top, his baby bump peeking through. She also takes note that Harry's hair, which is normally well-kept by the young lad, is in disarray, stray locks escaping the weak bun that he has.

"What's wrong, lovely?" Zayn's mum asks softly, sitting beside Harry on their sofa. Imagine her surprise when the curly-haired lad bursts into tears, babbling incoherently. Trisha is only able to pick up her son's name among the garbled words that Harry is saying and decides to give Zayn a scolding the next time he comes around. Then, she holds Harry, letting him cry on her shoulder. She pets his head gently, cooing sweet nothings into his ears in an effort to calm him down.

Eventually, Harry stops crying and when he finally does, Trisha couldn't help but kiss his tear-stained cheeks and the tip of his red nose. "Want a cuppa?"

Harry sniffs and nods.

Trisha gets up and enters the kitchen. She smiles at her eldest, Doniya, when she sees her making breakfast for them. "Thank you, sweetheart," she tells her daughter, kissing her temple.

"You're welcome, mum," Doniya smiles. She scrambles some eggs in a large bowl, adding milk, some salt and pepper into it. "Is Harry alright?"

Trisha sighs, putting water in the kettle. She puts a bag of soothing lavender tea inside a teacup for Harry and a lemon one for herself. "I think your brother is giving him a hard time."

Doniya frowns. She pours the beaten eggs mixture into a warm pan and waits a bit for the eggs to set lightly. "Harry's pregnant, he doesn't need any additional stress."

"Yes, that's right." Trisha lifts the kettle off the stove when it whistles. She pours the boiling water into the cups and lets the teabags steep. She then opens a drawer and pulls out her afternoon tea tray. She carefully puts the teacups on it and places a bowl of sugar cubes and a small jar of honey beside them. Then, she grabs two banana muffins, ones that she has baked last night, and places them on a saucer. "I think he walked all the way here," she worries quietly.

"That's not good for him or the baby," Doniya gasps. She almost loses her grip on the spatula that she is holding.

Trisha nods. "Exactly."

Yaser enters the kitchen then. He kisses Trisha on the lips, murmuring a quiet good morning. "I saw Harry on the couch," he says, concerned for the welfare of his son-in-law. "He doesn't look good. Is he alright?"

Trisha shrugs, lifting the tray with the tea and muffins. "Not really. I reckon they had a fight and he walked all the way from their house to here."

"That can't be good." Yaser's eyebrows furrow in worry.

Trisha nods, looking a little helpless. "Yes, but after he eats, I'll let him stay in Zayn's old room to rest."

Yaser turns the coffee maker on, dumping spoonfuls of coffee and then water into their designated spaces. "I'm going to call Anne to see if she can help," he suggests.

"Love, that's a good idea," Trisha grins, half-way out of the kitchen. "Do it."

"Alright," Yaser nods.

Doniya plates the scrambled egg and moves on to toasting some bread. "I'll finish breakfast, mum. Don't worry about Wali and Saf, I'll feed them."

"Thank you, honey," Trisha says, grateful. She quickly heads to the living room and finds Harry staring off into space, one hand gently resting on top of his pregnant belly.

"Here you go, darling. Be careful, it's hot." Trisha places Harry's lavender tea and muffin infront of him. She sits beside the upset young lad, stirring two cubes of sugar into her tea. Harry puts honey in his.

"Did you walk all the way here, Harry?" Trisha asks gently.

Harry nods, oblivious to the fact that he has just confirmed Trisha's fears. Not to sound dramatic, but Trisha knows that in Harry's delicate condition, a simple walk like this may be harmful to him and the unborn child growing inside him. "I wanted to clear my head," he admits quietly. "Initially, I only wanted to reach the park but, somehow, I ended up here."

"What happened?"

There's a pause in the conversation because Harry takes careful sips of his tea. Trisha is pleased to see the tension in his shoulders fade away as he relaxes.

"I woke him up really early to buy me some sour cream and onion crisps."

"The cravings are getting stronger again, hmm?"

An expression of guilt crosses Harry's face. "They are. I literally kicked Zayn out of the bed to wake him up."

Suddenly, Trisha giggles, imagining the grumpy expression on her son's face. "He can be quite the old grump when woken up."

A tiny smile lifts the corner of Harry's lips. "Yeah."

"Then?"

"He agreed," Harry says. He decides to tell her the truth, but he'll leave out what Zayn has said. "But, he bought like 5 boxes of marlboro. I got mad at him and he got mad at me. He started screaming. I went out."

By now, Trisha decides that Zayn is grounded for a month. She doesn't care if he's too old for it or that he doesn't live with her anymore. He's not allowed to go out for a month and she'll make sure he follows her.

"Oh, Harry."

"I'm s-sorry, Trisha," Harry sniffs, eyes watering all over again. He's ashamed of himself, running away from his problems when they get too much. "I tried controlling the cravings, I do. But sometimes they get really bad to the point that I cannot eat anything else and then I get these horrible hunger pains."

Trisha shakes her head. "Don't apologize, Harry. Food cravings are normal to pregnant people. I'm not mad at you. If anything, I'm more disappointed with my son for the way he's reacting and handling things. He should be more understanding of your situation," she sighs.

Patting the top of Harry's head, Trisha picks up the muffin and hands it to him. "Now, eat up," she instructs. "Finish your tea and then you should get some rest. That long walk from your house to ours must've been tiring. I'll prepare Zayn's old room for you, alright?"

"Okay," Harry agrees. Then, it seems like he couldn't help it anymore and mumbles, "I don't t-think I can do this anymore."

"Pardon me?"

"I don't think I'm cut out to be a parent," Harry murmurs. He lowers his head, embarrassed. "This p-pregnancy is tearing Zayn and I apart. All we've done since this started is fight. We argue alot and we never seemed to agree about anything anymore."

Hurriedly, Trisha hugs Harry. She presses her cheek on top of Harry's head and rubs his back. "Oh, Harry," she whispers, feeling the lad shake in her arms. "I'm sure that's not true. Everything will be alright, I promise. All of these arguments and nonsense will be worth it when you hold your child in your arms for the first time."

"I h-hope so and I'm s-sorry for troubling you so e-early on a Sunday morning."

"Ssh," Trisha coos. She squeezes Harry gently. "I know so. Don't you worry, lovely. Nothing to worry about. You're welcome to come here anytime, yeah?"

A couple of hours later, Harry, who is now calm enough after his talk with his mum on the phone, reassuring her that him and the baby are fine, is tucked warmly on top of Zayn's childhood bed, wearing one of Zayn's loose math club shirt and sweatpants. Harry has his eyes closed, his breathing slow and soft as he tries to take a nap. He is on the verge of falling asleep when the door clicks open and then locked once again. He hears quiet footsteps approach the bed and then the unoccupied side dips down with the weight of the person. Harry thinks it's just Trisha again, here to check up on him.

"I'm sorry, my love."

Harry's green eyes fly open to stare straight into golden irises. "Zayn?"

"Hey baby," Zayn tries to greet him with a smile, but it comes out weak. Zayn hesitantly cups the side of Harry's face, his touch warm and a bit sweaty for he isn't sure if he's allowed to touch Harry like this, when he has been nothing but a proper arse to his husband. "I wanted to apologize for earlier. I'm such a dick. I can't believe I s-said those awful things to you. I hope you can forgive me."

Harry leans into Zayn's touch. He wants to stay mad but it's hard when he's so in love with this brilliant man infront of him. "I won't lie and say none of those words hurt because they did," he says honestly. "But, I accept your apology because I love you, Zayn. Always."

Zayn's bottom lip trembles and his eyes get glassy with unshed tears. He lays down beside Harry and gathers him in an embrace. "I love you, too. So very much. I'm so sorry for hurting you. I love you."

Then, the two of them are kissing, their lips pressed together in a heated collision. One of Zayn's hands sneak underneath the shirt that Harry is wearing, settling on the warm skin of his husband's back. He rubs gentle circles on the surface and slids a leg in between Harry's. He applies a bit of pressure on his legs, his thigh grinding against Harry's clothed pussy. Harry moans loudly.

Zayn smirks and presses soft kisses on the pale column of Harry's neck. "I want you to be quiet, okay love? I'm going to make love to you."  
  



	9. Reacquaint

Harry stares at Zayn with big eyes, his lips swollen and so deliciously red from their short make-out session that Zayn couldn't help but seize them again, placing quick pecks and then nibbles along the supple flesh.

"You're so beautiful," Zayn says reverently. He caresses Harry's face tenderly, looking at him with all the love that he has for the lad. "God, I'm fucking lucky to have you. I'm sorry I've been such a dick."

"Zayn, your son or daughter can hear you, you know," Harry says sternly, although there's an amused twinkle in his eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you tone down the expletives."

Horrified with himself, Zayn ducks his head, his forehead resting against Harry's collarbone. "Sorry, baby," he apologizes. Then, he places his palm flat on Harry's pregnancy belly, says, "Sorry, my little baby."

The two soon-to-be parents gasp in unison when their unborn child answers by kicking at the spot that Zayn has his hand on. It is the first time that this has happened and Harry is an emotional mess in an instant, his eyes teary. "Oh my god, Zayn," he sniffles. "Our little baby just kicked!"

Nodding frantically, Zayn kisses Harry then his rounded belly. "Hey, my love," he whispers to their baby. "Be good for your poppy, alright? We love you."

"Another one," Harry whimpers, breathless. He pulls Zayn up and hugs him tightly around the neck, his baby bump a big block against them having a proper embrace. Still, they make the best of their position and Harry nuzzles at Zayn's neck, kissing along the golden skin.

Zayn groans. "Where were we?"

"I can remind you," Harry laughs lowly and slips a hand underneath Zayn's shirt, caressing the warm skin of his husband's stomach. His wandering hand goes higher until it reaches Zayn's chest. He pinches the dark haired lad's nipple and then rolls the hardening nub between his thumb and forefinger, forcing a moan out of Zayn's mouth, which he immediately covers up by capturing Harry's lips in another bruising kiss.

Carefully, Zayn guides Harry to lie down on the bed, their lips still pressed together. Once comfortable, Zayn sucks on Harry's bottom lip, asking for entrance into his mouth. Harry grants this request without hesitation, opening his mouth, which Zayn explores with vigor. Zayn licks his way into his husband's sweet mouth before coaxing the younger lad's tongue in a playful dance. Harry moans softly as their tongues collide, his fingers pushing into Zayn's hair and grabbing a fistful loosely. Zayn grunts deep in his throat, sucks the tip of Harry's tongue before breaking the intense liplock to breathe. He does not lean far away from Harry's face, leaving only an inch between the two of them. He grins at the dazed look on Harry's face.

"I can't believe I'm going to make love to you in my childhood bed, Haz," he whispers conspiratorially, smirking. He yelps when Harry pinches his side.

"In case you've forgotten, we already did this before," Harry reminds him. "When you finally introduced me to your parents a year after we've gotten together. We decided to sleep the night here, but did the exact opposite of that."

Zayn's smirks returns, dirtier than the previous one, when he remembers that night; a sweaty, panting Harry underneath him, wrecked and begging quietly for more. They ended up having three rounds that night and managed to sleep in until 1 in the afternoon - Trisha and Yaser kept giving them knowing glances and it was both amusing and embarrassing.

"Stop reminiscing, babe," Harry chides with a pout, squirming beneath Zayn. "I'm still unsatisfied here."

Zayn snaps out of his lewd thoughts and apologizes. He then undresses his husband slowly, kissing every inch of Harry's skin that is revealed. By the time Harry is stripped down to his birthday suit, he's flushed red, breathless and wetter than ever. Zayn licks his lips as he once gets a peek of Harry's dripping core, the scent of his heady arousal strong that it makes Zayn's cock twitch in its confines.

"Be quiet for me, yeah?" Zayn says, pressing a finger against his lips as he slowly crouches down to where Harry's pussy is. After spreading Harry's legs apart, he takes his sweet time and pays special attention to the soft skin of Harry's inner thighs. Zayn sucks a series of bruises on the pale expanse of skin, lined up like a queue towards Harry's private parts, with the dark haired lad enjoying the muffled sounds of pleasure that Harry is letting out. With a self-satisfied smirk, Zayn pulls back to observe his handiwork, mentally commending himself for a job well done.

Harry looks at Zayn with slightly wild eyes, the green in them darker with lust. "Tease," he whines softly.

Zayn chuckles and winks. He greedily drinks in Harry's pleasure addled face, letting the image of hooded eyes, flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen, ruby lips burn into his memory. Then, without any further words, he swoops down and eats Harry out like a starved man. He sucks on Harry's throbbing clit with much vigor, moaning when he feels two strong thighs cage his head in, trapping him in place. With nowhere else to go, Zayn makes it his mission to make Harry cum from his lips and tongue alone. Zayn sticks his tongue out and alternates between kitten licks and long licks of Harry's puffy pussy lips. He feels especially proud when Harry's body trembles hard under his wicked ministrations. Then, he goes back to sucking on the clit, nibbling it lightly before taking it back into his mouth with a vicious suck.

Harry is panting above Zayn now, both of his hands buried deep into Zayn's dark hair. He almost screams when he feels a thick tongue probing his insides without any restraint. "Ah, ungh, Z-Zayn," is all he manages to say.

Zayn's eyes are gleaming when he lifts his gaze and locks it against Harry's. He cocks an eyebrow in question, his tongue still wriggling inside Harry.

"Don't s-stop," Harry groans and drops his body on the bed, the cushion bouncing slightly along with his breasts. In the process, he releases his tight hold on Zayn's hair and uses his free hands to cover his eyes. His whole body is trembling, the familiar heat of an oncoming orgasm building on his lower abdomen. "I'm s-so close. Gonna c-cum."

Zayn hums in response and with a particularly hard suck on Harry's swollen clit, the younger lad reaches his orgasm, a choked moan slipping from his lips. Zayn happily licks the juices that gush out of Harry's pussy, moaning with his hand palming himself.

"God, that was way overdue," Harry says with a sigh, curling up on his side, a lazy smile on his face.

Zayn chuckles. He wipes his lips using the back of his hand before hurriedly undressing. "My turn," he says lowly, crawling over Harry's body. He strokes himself into full hardness, moaning quietly at the contact of his heated palm against his dick.

"Are you ready for me, love?" The older of the two asks.

Harry nods, spreading his legs for Zayn. "Mhmm. Always."

Zayn positions himself in between Harry's legs, his hard cock held in his hand as he guides it towards Harry's wet pussy. He slides in all the way, gasping at the delicious clench of Harry's inner walls against his pulsing member. He pauses, long enough for the still sensitive Harry to calm down and relax.

"Go on, move," Harry informs Zayn after a few seconds has passed.

Zayn doesn't need to be told twice and starts building up a steady rhythm of long pulls and hard thrusts. Mentally, Zayn thanks his lucky stars for the simple fact that their house is built on solid cement, making it so the creak of the bed as they made love is hardly noticeable to the individuals downstairs. He thinks he'll die of embarrassment if any of his sisters hear this; they will never shut up about it and will definitely tease him for many years to come.

"G-God Zayn, harder." Harry's breathless plea snaps Zayn out of his thoughts. He looks down at his sweaty husband and watches shamelessly as Harry's breasts bounce around in time with Zayn's thrusts. Unable to help himself, Zayn grabs the two soft mounds in his hands and kneads them gently, his fingers busy with tweaking Harry's nipples into full hardness.

Harry moans softly, squirming. He's got his hands clenched tightly on fistfuls of the bedsheets, knuckles white.

After playing with Harry's breasts, Zayn then pushes his husband's legs much farther apart before leaning forward and bracing his hands on either side of Harry's hips, burying himself deeper inside Harry. With this position, he is able to thrust farther inside Harry's pussy, his balls slapping against Harry's ass.

"You're so tight," Zayn growls, his hips stuttering forward. He feels his climax coming, a delicious heat pooling in his tummy. "So good, Haz. Ugh."

Harry lets go of the bedsheets and instead places his hands on top of Zayn's, threading their fingers together. "You're making me feel so good, Zayn. Gonna cum a-again."

Zayn tries to kiss Harry, but laughs when he realizes that he is unable to do so for the latter's big, round tummy is on the way. So, instead, Zayn presses kisses on aforementioned baby bump, his thrusts getting sloppy and erratic as his climax nears.

"Zayn!" Harry yelps when Zayn does a particularly delicious roll of his hips. "Oh god."

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Zayn chants when he finally cums, his pulsing dick buried deep inside Harry, coating his insides with semen.

Zayn's orgasm causes Harry to follow suit. With the force of his second orgasm, Harry's eyes slide shut tightly, his body jerking while his inner walls clench and unclench against Zayn's member. The couple moan in unison, letting their orgasms pass.

"That was amazing," Zayn informs Harry while he cleans them both. He has a wet towel in his hands and is rubbing it on Harry's face to get rid of his sweat. Then, he dresses his husband in his previous clothes before tucking him in.

Drowsy, Harry barely manages a nod. "It was. Missed it."

Zayn chuckles, now dressed in his own clothes. He approaches Harry on the bed and kisses him softly. "You should get some rest," he says. "I'll ask mum if we can sleep here tonight."

"Okay," Harry yawns. He smiles sleepily at Zayn, eyes unfocused with exhaustion. He looks so precious and adorable that Zayn kisses him again, this time hotter with a bit of tongue.

"I love you, Haz," Zayn whispers quietly, patting Harry's flushed cheeks with gentle fingers.

Even though he's practically half-asleep, Harry still replies with a murmured, "I love you, too."

As it turns out, the Maliks all have an idea of what has transpired between Harry and Zayn in the confines of his childhood bedroom and one look at Zayn's sweaty but glowing face and messy hair is all the confirmation that they need.

"Oh, shit," Zayn laments once he notices the smirks that his parents and sisters are all sporting.

Let's just say that, after tonight, Zayn is planning on not visiting his family anytime soon just to redeem a bit of his pride.  
  



	10. Sunshine

Zayn and Harry are known in their circle of friends as that couple, who hardly ever has any arguments and it is true, to some extent, especially since the two seem to compliment each other flawlessly; Harry's missing parts seamlessly fitting against Zayn's, like the last two pieces of an intricate puzzle.

It goes a little something like this:

Zayn is the moon, the light in the dark. He is captivating, calm and collected with his cool golden-eyed stares and closed lip smiles. He is ethereal, almost incomprehensible in his good looks. Many people see him and think _is he even real with a face like that?_ because with perfectly symmetrical facial features and flawless golden skin such as his, it is almost insane to think that he is someone who belongs to Earth. Sadly, although he is someone who attracts much attention, Zayn is rather aloof, often labeled as mysterious and remains as such to people that he considers as mere acquaintances. However, once he takes you under his wings and feels for you something deeper, a kinship such as that of a close friend, like the moon, he shines and he will show you his many sides: charming, quirky, and undeniably romantic. Zayn loves deeply and freely. It is hard not to bask and soak in his gentle attention, his genuine concerns.

On the other hand, Harry is the sun, that ball of blazing fire which adds up to the dazzle of the morning sky. He is blinding, radiant and effervescent, armed with a constant supply of the corniest puns, cheeky expressions and beaming, dimpled grins. He is kaleidoscopic with his chocolate curls, green eyes, pink cheeks and cherry lips and people find it hard to look away from him, despite his tendency to be so maddeningly bright. Unlike his husband, Harry is the textbook definition of _sociable._ He is a bit of a social butterfly, flitting from a cluster of friends to another. It is no wonder, though, because Harry is so easy to like. He can give you the smallest of things and simultaneously make you feel like the biggest human being in the world. It is almost like he has sown a second heart on his sleeves, another vessel to contain his affections, one for his acquaintances and the people that surrounds him, all the while keeping his other one inside, snug in his chest for those who he holds dear: his family, his best mates and, ultimately, Zayn.

Despite being opposites, like the sun and the moon, Harry and Zayn make it work. They work around each other's shortcomings and talk everything out. They do argue, of course - no couple is _that_ perfect - regarding silly little things and even potentially life-changing decisions, but they make it a point to not go to bed with anger directed towards each other. Whenever they disagree about something, they talk it out calmly, communicating their feelings sincerely. Because of this, they are able to show their most vulnerable state to their significant other yet have that complete trust that they are safe and will be understood. Anyone who witnesses how comfortable Harry and Zayn are with each other will be amazed at how beautiful their love is, how quiet it is but all too powerful, nonetheless.

Unfortunately, ever since Harry's gender transformation because of muddled reasons, it is like someone has thrown a brick at them, upsetting the careful balance between them and it is now replaced with misguided frustrations. For the past couple of months alone, Harry and Zayn have had big, serious arguments and petty little fights that can last them for a few couple of lifetimes.

Perhaps, like the one that they are having right now.

"What are you trying to prove with this list, Harry?" Zayn grits out, his whole body tense and rigid with anger. He waves a piece of paper in the air, gripping it so tightly that its sides are crumpled to a state that is wholly unreadable. "That I'm some loser, who is not capable of providing for us once you give birth? Is that it?"

Infront of Zayn, Harry is equally as infuriated, his face red and his arms crossed over his chest. When he speaks, he turns his nose higher in the air, almost looking down on his husband. "Grow the hell up, Zayn. This isn't about you. If you would just get your head out of your arse, you will understand that I'm not trying to prove anything with that list. I'm merely being practical and logical."

Bristling, Zayn finally gives in and finally crumples the paper into a ball, throwing it to Harry, hitting his 40-weeks pregnant belly. The curly-haired brunette gasps in shock, which Zayn promptly ignores. "Practical and logical, my ass. Kindly explain to me how bloody logical it is that you are writing down the amount of money that you are planning to secretly loan from our parents without my output. Do you not care about my feelings anymore? Do you not care that I might not like to do this? When were you going to tell me about this? Where you even planning to do so? Oh, right. No. Great! Fucking awesome is what this is," Zayn mocks sharply, furious.

"Watch your language," Harry screeches, covering his baby bump with both of his hands, as if that is enough protection for their unborn baby's ears against Zayn's foul words. "And what is so bad about this, Zayn? They are our family! Whether we like it or not, we will be needing a bit of help from them sooner or later. I've been unemployed ever since I turned into a girl, therefore, I haven't been contributing any money to this house. We are paying bills using your salary and our bank savings and that is depleting faster than I can blink. We need money for when I give birth and more for when we are actually raising our child. What is so wrong about a little help from my mum? From your dad?"

Unwilling to back down, Zayn only turns angrier. Despite the glaring truth of Harry's words and decisions, Zayn chooses not to go along with it. He doesn't necessarily understand why he is getting so worked up about this, usually he is calm and tries to be reasonable, but he chalks it all up to his wounded ego. He is supposed to be the one providing for Harry and their future family and the knowledge that Harry is planning to ask for money - behind his back, mind you - from their parents is something that hurts his pride as a future father. "We don't need their help," he insists, his voice taking on the quality of a petulant whine.

Harry gawks at Zayn, eyes impossibly wide. "Are you being serious right now?"

"Yes, I am," Zayn retorts. "If we ask them for money, it'll look like we are failures, losers who can't even start their own family. You understand me, right Hazza?"

With a helpless shake of his head, Harry stands up from his seat, giving Zayn a disappointed look before heading out of the kitchen.

Zayn is hot on Harry's heels, stopping the pregnant lad from going upstairs by grabbing his elbow. "Harry, we can do this. Trust me. You can go back to your job as soon as you give birth and we'll have money then."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Zayn?" Harry all but yells, completely losing his cool. He tugs his elbow out of Zayn's grasp and spins around to glare hotly at him. "Do you think the clinic will re-hire me? A bloody female claiming to be the very male optometrist Harry Malik? If you're just taking the piss then I suggest you work on your material, Zayn. I'm missing your punchline and it's pissing me off."

"There's no bloody punchline, Haz. I'm just saying we can get through this without asking for money from anyone else, family or not. There is no need. I can provide for us. Just let me do this."

Harry blows a loud breath of air. "You are so stubborn," he scoffs. "If you hadn't wished for me to become something that I'm not, we wouldn't have been in this mess."

Silence greets Harry's words. Thick, suffocating silence, which is made even heavier by the look of utter betrayal splashed across Zayn's face. Harry realizes what he has implied seconds later and pales, looking guilty.

"Z-Zayn..."

Zayn shakes his head and holds his hand up to cut Harry off. "Forget it," he mutters grumpily. He backtracks and starts to head to their front door.

Harry watches as his husband puts his coat on and then his shoes. He wants to stop him, prevent his exit but, somehow, his feet are glued to the floor and his lips are sealed shut.

"I'm going out," Zayn informs Harry in a clipped tone. He keeps his back to his husband with one hand on the doorknob. He is scowling so hard that it looks painful. "Don't bother waiting up for me."

"Wait, Zayn. I'm s-sorry," Harry apologizes softly, running a shaking head through his hair. He hopes for any form of response, perhaps a grunt or a scoff, whatever, but there is none. There is a painful twinge in his chest, reminding him that he has taken things too far with his words.

Meanwhile, a frustrated Zayn ignores his husband and slams the front door shut. Once outside, right on their front porch, he kicks at the ground childishly before going over to his car with heavy stomping footsteps. Then, he slides inside the vehicle in jerky, uneven movements, too frustrated to bother with his usual gracefulness. Before he turns the engine on, Zayn screams out his anger, hitting the steering wheel repeatedly. Accidentally, he hits the horn of the car and its loud noise drowns out more of his frustrated cussing. After letting most of his irritation out, only then does he start the car, backing out of their driveway and onto the direction of the Horan-Payne's residence. He doesn't look back.

All throughout the day, Harry allows himself to wallow in regrets, guilt and self-pity. He's pregnant - about to pop out a kid anytime soon, really - and horribly upset with himself for being overly emotional. He is also terribly disappointed with Zayn for not being a bit more patient with him. While Harry knows it is unfair of him to use the _you were the one who wished I was a woman_ card against Zayn, he also couldn't help but simply lay the truth down the table, consequences and hurt feelings be damned, especially since it looks as though Zayn cannot tolerate Harry's out of whack moods any longer. It is true that they have been fighting more ever since his transformation and it is quite taxing, both physically, mentally and emotionally, but it doesn't automatically mean that they should leave one another when the going gets tough and give each other spaces. Honestly, Harry is willing to clench his jaw and accept Zayn's scolding for his childish whining and such. However, it seems like Zayn does not even bother to see that possibility; he just wants a way out of their squabbles, every single time. It hurts Harry to think that Zayn has easily dropped their earlier argument to leave him when he could have stayed and talked it through some more, like how most of their past arguments has been resolved.

Upset and in a bit of a pain, Harry begins his slow waddling ascent up the stairs. He knows it isn't a good idea to be skipping dinner when he is pregnant, but, honestly, his appetite is shot the moment Zayn has walked out of the house. So, instead of moping around the house, Harry is thinking of having an intimate meeting with a tub full of warm, rose-scented water, vanilla candles and a bit of classical music for the little one inside his rounded tummy. Upon reaching their bathroom, Harry sheds his clothes and puts them in the hamper to be washed later. Naked and with much difficulty because of his pregnant belly, he starts preparing the water in the tub. He turns the faucet to hot, filling almost 3/4 of the tub with steaming water and then he turns it to cold to finish off his desired tub water level and temperature. Next, he drops this bath bomb from Lush called _Rosy Bombshell_ for a more special soaking time. After watching the bath bomb fizzle and melt into the water, staining it a cheery pink, Harry then lights up the candles, dims the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bathroom and plugs his phone into a portable speaker. A few seconds later, the grandiose and playful tones of Beethoven's _Für Elise_ fills the air. Harry hums in satisfaction as he lowers himself in the tub, letting the soft ripples of the heavenly water and the chase of the musical notes lull him into a relaxed state.

Two hours later, Harry is refreshed and is now dressed in his softest pair of maternity pyjamas, which is Gemma's gift to him when she has first learned about his pregnancy, his long hair brushed down and drying. It is already past 10 in the evening and Zayn is still nowhere to be found. By now, Harry is feeling quite antsy and a heck of alot worried for his husband, since Zayn is usually home around this time of the night despite their many arguments. Fidgeting, Harry habitually checks the wall clock hanging on top of their bed, taking note of the time and wanting nothing more but for Zayn to come home. Unfortunately, as if Zayn's prolonged absence is not punishment enough for Harry, he is also having this intense pain somewhere on his lower back that is gradually making its way to his lower abdomen. It has started mildly, just an uncomfortable tightening of his muscles with a long stretch of time in between, but is now getting stronger and more frequent. Harry is getting alarmed because, initially, he has believed this to be just another case of the Braxton-Hicks contractions, but now, he isn't so sure anymore. Currently, the contractions that he has been experiencing are progressing, much more painful and they are coming in regularly now, a pattern of sorts that Harry is finally noticing.

Terrified of what this might mean, Harry starts preparing all the necessary things that he might be needing if the baby decides to come out now. After sending countless pleading messages to Zayn's phone number, Harry then gets his essentials out: clean, freshly-washed towels, newborn nappies, a basin, the baby's outfit, and others. After passing his seventh month of pregnancy, it is decided by the couple that, because Harry is registered as a male in all of his identification cards and not a pregnant female, he is to give birth at home, where he is most comfortable and wouldn't be hassled by technicalities. Unlike his earlier visits to his regular OB-GYN as Mrs. Malik, whereas he is not asked for any government-issued ID, giving birth in a hospital is a heck of a lot different, especially in terms of his medical insurance and such; it will definitely raise alot of questions if the staff finds out that he does not exist in the country as a _woman_. So, instead of putting these necessities in a bag, he piles them all on top of their bed, praying to whoever is watching over him from above that Zayn comes through and goes home in time for their child's delivery.

With his supplies out and his pains getting closer to each other, all Harry can do is wait.

In the meantime, the pregnant lad starts his _Mozart effect_ playlist after plugging his phone onto the portable speakers once again, letting the dulcet notes battle the uncomfortable silence of their home. He is restless but decides that in order to take his mind off of the current situation, he needs to be doing something productive. So, Harry situates himself on the rocking chair inside their room, pulls out his knitting supplies and starts to make a hat for his little one, occasionally wincing when another contraction passes. Unfortunately though, halfway through his project, Harry feels this very sudden, large gush of liquid from in between his legs, shocking him enough for his hands to drop his little project, the clatter of the knitting needles loud against the hardwood floor.

"Oh g-god," Harry mutters to himself, standing up on wobbly knees. He looks down at his drenched pyjama pants with wide eyes before springing into action. "I think my water just broke."

Harry puts one of the towels on top of the puddle of liquid, kneels down and uses it to clean the floor, sopping every drop of the colorless amniotic fluid. He gasps breathlessly when a particularly harsh contraction grips him, his whole body recoiling in pain. He stays on all fours on the floor, letting the feeling pass and trembling as he does so. When nothing but a dull throb is left, Harry musters enough strength and crawls over to the nightstand, picking up his phone with shaking hands. He presses 2 on his speed dial, the one contact number that is specifically reserved for this big day.

The person on the other line picks up after the first ring, almost as if she is merely waiting for Harry's call. "Harry, sweetheart?"

"Doniya? S-sorry for bothering y-you," Harry murmurs into the phone, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. He's scared shitless that he's near hyperventilating. "I think t-the baby's c-coming."

There's loud rustling on Doniya's end of the line and then she's cooing into the phone, no doubt in her professional doctor mode. "Alright, that's good, love. No need to apologize, I wasn't doing anything, it's good that you called me quickly. Listen, I want you to change into the night gown, the peach-colored one that I've given you, yeah? Then, just try to relax. Calm down and do not panic. Drink tea. Walk around your room. Watch some telly, alright Haz?"

"O-okay. Yeah. Can d-do that," Harry stammers, wincing through more contractions. If asked, he thinks the contractions come every 15 minutes now and the realization that this is truly happening is making his chest tighten with fear.

"Brilliant," Doniya praises softly. Harry can hear her moving around, her keys making loud jingling noises. She is most likely heading out of her house and into her car. "I'm on my way there, hmm? Pass the phone to Zayn please, love."

The reminder that Zayn is still out, angry and, most likely, hurt from their little spat earlier is enough to send Harry to tears. He starts sobbing into the phone, his tears endless. "Z-Z-Zayn isn't here, D-Doniya," he cries brokenly. "H-he w-went o-out e-earlier b-because we...we g-got into a f-fight."

That doesn't sound good, Doniya thinks worriedly. She's a bit mad at her brother for taking off like that when he knows that Harry needs him the most during these times of uncertainty.

With a heavy sigh, Doniya sits on her car idly, wanting to attempt to comfort her brother-in-law before she starts the short journey to his home. She needs to make sure he's calmed down enough to wait for her. She imagines him worrying to no end and exhausting himself that by the time he needs to push, he wouldn't have the strength to do so. "Oh, babe. He'll be home soon. Calm down for me, yeah? You shouldn't be stressed, it's bad for your baby. Sssh, Haz. It's okay. Everything'll be alright."

Half an hour later, Doniya is cooing to Harry whilst checking in between his legs to take note of how dilated he is. Upon checking, she has confirmed that Harry is in active labor and his cervix has dilated from 3 centimeters to 7. Still, he is not yet ready to push, so Doniya is determined to help him relax for the remainder of the time. She turns the television on and settles for a documentary about the cosmos.

"Want me to get you some snacks, H?" Doniya inquires kindly, sitting behind Harry to gather his hair into a ponytail. She uses her own neon pink scrunchie to tie the dark chocolate-colored locks back and away from Harry's face. "What about tea?"

Turning his head to regard Zayn's older sister, Harry's shoulders are slouched and his expression is saddened, his eyes are bloodshot and swollen from all the crying that he has done. He shrugs at Doniya's question. "Erm, a glass of water would be nice, Don. Thanks."

Leaning forward, Doniya kisses Harry's cheek and nods. She gets off the bed and carefully arranges a pillow fort behind Harry to keep him comfortable while watching the telly. "I'll be back in a mo."

True to her words, Doniya is back in the room rather quick, holding a tray with Harry's glass of water, a pack of digestive crackers and cut up banana in a saucer. She smiles at her sleepy brother-in-law and his hooded eyes when they catch sight of her.

"Got you some snacks, too, Haz," Doniya announces cheerfully. She deposits the tray with the food and drinks on top of the nightstand and grabs a face towel to dab the sweat off of Harry's forehead. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired," Harry groans, grimacing at a contraction. He takes a chug of water and a cracker, nibbling on it. "In pain. Upset. A bit angry. At Zayn. Mostly at myself, though."

"The contractions?"

"Getting closer apart. I'd say 'round 2 to 3 minutes?"

Doniya nods, looking thoughtful. "You're close," she tells Harry lightly before turning serious, her brown eyes - so alike Zayn's - regarding Harry with concern and curiosity. She reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly. "I know you don't want to talk about this, but I need to know, Harry. Where's Zayn?"

Harry stiffens, lowering his eyes. The hand in Doniya's grip trembles. "I d-don't know," he whispers, so softly that Doniya has to lean forward to hear it clearly.

In disbelief, Doniya repeats, "You don't know?"

Sniffling pitifully, Harry nods. He burns with shame, clearly blaming himself for what has happened.

"What exactly was this fight all about?" Doniya presses.

"I was in the kitchen, writing some reminders, like our expenses and money that we need for when I give birth," Harry explains. As he speaks, he avoids all eye contact with Doniya and instead keeps his head down, fiddling with the bedsheets. "Zayn saw me jotting down how much money I plan to borrow from our...p-parents. Because let's face it, erm, I haven't been able to go to work ever since this happened and we've got lots of bills to pay. Not to mention, we're having a child now and this means added expenses. I just can't return to my previous job as soon as my stomach turns flat, like that'll go well when I'm still in this female body. So yeah. Zayn got mad. I did, too. We argued. I blamed him for what happened to me and he left. He hasn't come home since then. I'm s-sorry."

By the end of Harry's explanation, Doniya is itching to find Zayn, pull him by the ear and scold him senseless. He is such a drama queen and Doniya intends to tell him just that, among other things. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials Zayn's number.

"I'll call him."

Harry sighs but it is cut off by a moan when a particularly violent contraction hits him. "I c-called h-him earlier. H-he d-didn't answer."

"Then, I'll blow up his phone with voice messages," Doniya decides. She steps out of the room and starts ranting loudly into the phone when, predictably, it transfers to voicemail.

_Hey. It's Zayn Malik. Sorry but I can't take your call right now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can._

"Zayn Javadd Malik, I am very disappointed in you. How dare you leave your pregnant husband alone when he is due at any minute? What were you thinking? I guess you were not using your small brain again, you poop. You better pray that I don't get ahold of you because I swear I'll kick you so hard where the sun doesn't shine. Also, I'm telling mum and dad about this. You're in so much trouble, brat. Anyway, where the bloody hell are you? Go home now. Harry's in labor. If you miss your child's birth, I'm going to maim you."

As if right on cue, Harry yelps loudly in pain and calls out to Doniya. This makes Doniya end the call abruptly and race downstairs to grab the hot water that she has heated for the birth. She moves quickly and efficiently, making sure that she spills nothing on her way up. She enters the bedroom and sees Harry struggling not to push the child out of his womb. Doniya puts the basin with warm water onto the floor before arranging Harry into the correct position, clean towels underneath him so as to not stain the bed.

Harry pants, his face screwed up in pain. "Z-Zayn."

Doniya winces when he cries out after another contraction. "He'll be here," she coos, patting Harry's rounded tummy. Then, she checks on the dilation of his cervix, seeing it in full 10 centimeters. He's ready.

"Alright, H. Time to have a baby," Doniya says in her most cheerful tone, hoping to at least encourage Harry eventhough her idiot brother is still MIA.

_Zayn, please come home._

A brutal kick to his side wakes Zayn up from his impromptu sleepover on top of the Payne's lumpy couch. He shoots up quickly, his sleep-blurred eyes catching sight of Niall bringing his right leg down mere seconds after his uncharacteristically merciless act. The other lad's blue eyes are glaring at Zayn.

"Bloody hell," Niall scowls. He leans forward and shoves at Zayn's shoulder. "I've been trying to wake you up for the past half an hour."

"What time is it?" Zayn grumbles, sitting up and rubbing his sore side. Niall's attack is pretty intense, not to mention, painful.

"It's time for you to haul your arse off our couch and to your house, I'd say."

Zayn frowns deeply, hurt that he is being forced to go away by his own mates, even after he has confided in them what the problem is. He looks up and catches sight of Liam and his disappointed expression by the entrance to the living room. Confused, Zayn feels a misplaced kind of anger towards the couple. How dare they feel upset by him when he is the one being forced out of the house and into the middle of the night no less? Some friends they are, he thinks bitterly. "Fine. If you do not want me here or you want me to leave so badly, I'll fucking go. Just remember that I didn't force myself here. You shouldn't have opened your door earlier."

Matching Zayn's fire with a blazing furnace of his own, Niall's pale cheeks redden, his eyebrows pulled tightly in the middle of his forehead. He crosses his arms over his chest, staring heatedly at Zayn, almost judging him. "Stop being such an unreasonable twat," the Irish lad huffs. Slowly, Niall gets into a position that Zayn is familiar with, something that indicates that he'll be getting the tongue lashing of a lifetime, courtesy of his normally cheerful mate. "You bloody well know that that is not the issue here, Malik. In case you have forgotten, then let me, your caring mate, help you remember: you've got a pregnant husband at home that is due to give birth to your child at any given moment and you left him all alone because you are the biggest drama queen and couldn't accept the fact that he is planning to seek help from your parents if ever you might need it in the near future. Take note, though, that it is merely a plan and it hasn't been done yet, but you, being the fucking wanker that you are, got angry and walked out, anyway."

After the vicious rant, Niall is breathing heavily with Liam behind him, rubbing his back in gentle circles. The brown-eyed lad is calmer than his bottle blond counterpart, a tiny, sad smile on his lips directed at Zayn. "Z, go home. Harry needs you now more than ever. You shouldn't have left him all on his own in his delicate condition. I know that we are to be partially blamed for opening our door to you instead of telling you to sort it out with your husband, but initially, we only wanted you to blow some steam for a couple of hours and then convince you to go home. However, an hour turned into you staying well into the night and, erm, that's not good."

Niall nods. He appears to have gotten past his anger and is now calming down enough for him to not verbally lash out at Zayn. "Also," he says. "Your phone has been blowing up with calls and texts. We tried calling Harry but his phone is unattended."

This gets Zayn worried to no end. He practically jumps out of the couch and snatches his phone off the coffee table. He hastily opens one of the most recent voice messages, which is Doniya's furious rant, wincing at the ferocity of his older sister's words. Zayn blanches as he gets to the end of the call because, fuck, Harry's about to give birth!

"Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit," Zayn says like a mantra, collecting his jacket and checking his pockets for his car keys. Liam and Niall follow him with worry.

"What's wrong, Zayn?" Liam inquires softly.

Zayn doesn't bother putting his jacket on and instead exits the house in a light jog. "I have to go home. I'll call you later," he responds loudly, seeing as both Liam and Niall are on their front porch, looking awfully confused. He slides into his car, waves at the couple as he backs out of their driveway and speeds off into night.

During his drive home, Zayn cannot help but get lost against the onslaught of an overwhelming tidal wave of combined emotions, mostly of shame and guilt. He is fully aware of how he has overreacted earlier in the day, getting mad at Harry for something so petty as financial problems. Not only that, he also has the nerve to get hurt when Harry has said that it is his fault that the younger lad is now a woman when it is nothing but the cold, hard truth. Greatly ashamed, Zayn scolds himself for handling things so immaturely and walking out of their home even with the knowledge that Harry is very pregnant and is due at any moment. He is such an idiot!

A loud honk of a horn from behind him snaps Zayn out of mentally scolding himself and with a start, he looks around, realizes that he has slowed to a stop in the middle of the road and one of the few vehicles that is passing by has just saved his arse from any mishaps if he has stayed any longer. He sighs quite heavily, once again finding himself disappointed with his actions. Belatedly, it dawns on him, the realization that it is time to get a grip on his emotions and not let them dictate his future recklessness, especially now that his child is well on the way to entering the world. Zayn cannot afford to be selfish any longer for he has Harry and, now, their son or daughter to look after.

So, with those determined thoughts in mind, Zayn speeds home, a renewed sense of purpose coursing through him.

Within a few more minutes, Zayn arrives home. Hurriedly, he parks his car on the other side of their driveway, seeing as Doniya's own car is parked on his usual spot, locks it and practically runs inside their home. He doesn't bother neatly lining up his shoes on the shoe rack like the usual, merely tosses the pair of sneakers aside, and sprints to his and Harry's bedroom, grimacing at the pained noises that Harry is letting out. He arrives at the master's bedroom in under a minute, slamming the door open. His heart drops at the heartbreaking scene in front of him.

"Come on, Harry," Doniya urges fervently, her eyebrows pulled to the middle of her forehead as she watches Harry struggle to push their firstborn out. He is in a weird combination of a squat and an indian-style of sitting on top of the bed, panting quite loudly, his face and hair drenched with sweat at the effort of giving birth. "Take deep breaths and on the next contraction, I want you to give me a mighty push, please, love. Your child is having a difficult time passing through the birth canal. Any longer and he or she will be deprived of oxygen."

Exhausted beyond belief, Harry breaks down and cries, sobbing heavily, thinking about how he is already letting their son or daughter down and they are not even born yet. He shifts slowly then, letting his sweaty back touch the mattress. He opens his legs wider and on the next painful contraction, he gives a large push. Unfortunately, the baby's head is still not coming out. "I c-c-can't, D-Doniya," Harry whimpers loudly, his eyes squeezed shut. "I c-can't do it a-anymore."

Doniya frowns worriedly. "Please try harder, Harry." After she says those words, she wishes with all her might for something to bring his stubborn brother back home. Harry needs him greatly and he is somewhere out there, about to miss the birth of his child.

Another contraction comes and Harry cries out, pushing with all his might. Still, no progress is made and Harry's strength is dwindling rather quickly. The brunette is about to give up and pass out, when strong arms encircle and squeeze his trembling form. Harry breathes in the familiar scent and goes limp against the sinewy body cradling him. Breathlessly, he murmurs, "Zayn."

"I'm here, my love," Zayn whispers soothingly, dropping a kiss on top of Harry's head. He laces their fingers together and gets comfortable behind Harry, letting his husband lean against him for support. "Let's have a baby," he tells Doniya with a nervous smile, squeezing Harry's hand in his.

Relieved, Doniya nods. "Push, Harry," she orders gently, both of her hands positioned strategically underneath Harry's spread open legs to aid in the descent of her nephew or niece.

With renewed spirit, Harry gathers the remaining strength deep in his bones and aching muscles to heave a mighty push, feeling his child's head finally slide out of him.

"You're doing great, baby," Zayn praises, untangling one of his hands from Harry's and then using it to wipe the beads of sweat on his husband's forehead. He peppers more kisses on any part of Harry's body that he can reach: his brows, his shoulders, the side of his neck, everywhere. He buries a smile on Harry's wild hair and inhales his comforting scent. "I love you."

Warmth courses through Harry's entire being with Zayn's soft words. Despite the threat of unconsciousness looming over him, Harry manages to allow a grin to stretch across his dry lips. "I love you, too, Zayn."

"Head's out, babes," Doniya informs them, obviously excited. She holds the head of her brother's child gently in her soft palms and coaxes Harry to push more. "Okay," she says. "Now, let's get the shoulders and the rest of the body out, yeah Haz? Just a few more pushes."

Tiredly, Harry nods. He takes a deep breath and releases it in a loud exhale before pushing some more. It is so painful that Harry can only whimper weakly after each exertion. Zayn watches on with tightly furrowed eyebrows, biting his lower lip and matching his breathing with Harry's. He is guilty for causing Harry so much pain but, with the knowledge that blaming himself wouldn't do any good, he ignores the feeling in favor of coaching his husband through this unbelievably amazing event of both of their lives.

"I believe in you, Harry. You can do it."

A couple more minutes later, a fierce cry from a tiny set of lungs indicates the presence of the new addition to the Styles-Malik family. Doniya is grinning widely, teary-eyed, as she cleans the wailing newborn's face. Then, she sets the babe aside to quickly aid in the delivery of the placenta. Once done with the afterbirth, Doniya then picks the baby up and places the tiny body on Harry's chest for their very first cuddle, effectively jolting the lad, who is just a breath away from passing out because of utter exhaustion. Similarly, the baby, who is still wailing loudly, immediately quiets down when their cold skin is pressed flush against Harry's warmth.

The new father's eyes are wide and glassy as he gazes upon the tiny form of their firstborn child. "Our baby's so beautiful, Zayn," Harry whispers in awe, his heart clenching in his chest when the child opens their small mouth in a yawn and then snuggles further on his chest, wisps of brown hair tickling Harry's bare chest. The tired lad is enchanted. "Gosh, I think I've fallen in love again."

Zayn laughs loudly and gathers his family close in a warm embrace. "You did it, Harry," he praises softly, proud of his husband.

However, Harry shakes his head and tilts his head up. "No, _we_ did it," he corrects Zayn before capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. The couple immediately gets sucked into their act, not even noticing that Doniya is eyeing them with great amusement.

When it appears as though the two aren't going to break their liplock soon, Doniya clicks her tongue in a playfully disapproving manner. "Not in front of my new nephew, please," she says quite loudly, picking up the baby from Harry's chest. She brings him to where she has set a space to clean him up. Carefully and with gentle precision, Doniya cleans up her nephew and swaddles him in a hooded blanket before bringing him over to Zayn and Harry.

"We've got a son?" Zayn asks, eyes blown wide in delight. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Doniya responds, chuckling. She hands the tiny boy to Zayn, making sure that he's holding him properly. "Do you have a name?"

Despite giving birth just a few minutes ago, Harry looks energized, perhaps from the simple knowledge that they now have a son. He is positively beaming, like he has just won the lottery. "Zivon Helios Malik," he answers. "Our lively sun."

"Such a perfect name for a beautiful boy," Doniya coos sweetly, gently tapping her nephew's small button nose. She giggles when Zivon's precious little face scrunches up in response to her actions.

Zayn grins proudly, kissing his son's forehead before handing him over to Harry, who is practically buzzing with excitement to hold his baby boy. He then gets off the bed and fishes his phone out to take a photo of the precious moment between the two.

When Doniya is sure that Zayn is a safe distance away from his husband and son, she steps closer to him and pulls his ear. "You have alot of explaining to do, brother," she croons with mock sweetness, glaring at the wincing Zayn. "How could you leave Harry like that?"

Zayn's face falls and Doniya feels like that is punishment enough for his stupidity. Still, she wants to milk this for all that's it worth, scold Zayn with all her might because what Zayn has done is unforgivable, especially if something bad has happened to Harry, their son or both of them, considering how much danger is involved in childbirth.

"I'm sorry," Zayn says, ashamed. He sighs and hangs his head. "It was stupid of me, I know, and my apology is not enough, but I'll make it up to you, Haz. Somehow."

"I accept your apology, love," Harry replies kindly and he sounds different, which prompts the Malik siblings to look over at him.

Doniya and Zayn's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets at the sight.

"What?" Harry huffs, raising an eyebrow. He feels a tad self-conscious with their combined intense stares.

Dropping his phone to the floor, Zayn rushes to his husband and showers his face in kisses. "Oh my god," the dark-haired lad whispers, breathless, a bit disbelieving. "You're back."

Now, Harry is confused. "Huh?"

"Why don't you look down and see for yourself?" Doniya suggests with a chuckle. She sits down on the edge of the bed and pats Harry's feet.

Hurriedly, Harry looks down at his half-covered body, past his newborn son, his green eyes widening in shock. In place of the very female body that he has come to accept over the course of his pregnancy is the muscular, tattooed body that he has missed badly. "O-oh," Harry mutters, shocked. "I'm b-back! I'm a man again!"

Zayn squeezes Harry gently, his arms snug around Harry's shoulders so he doesn't hurt Zivon in the process. "I've missed you so much," he whispers against Harry's ear, tone hoarse with emotions, sending shivers along Harry's spine.

Harry leans his head against Zayn while he looks down at his sleeping baby boy. "You did it, sunshine," he croons, gently patting Zivon's forehead and cuddling him closer. "You gave poppy his body back."

"You don't think...?" Zayn doesn't get to finish his question because Harry is already replying, "Yes. I reckon little Ziv here is what Louise was talking about when she told me that I will only get my body back when the whole wish is fulfilled."

Doniya hums in agreement, having been filled in on what truly happened to Harry way back. "Zivon is that _end product_ , I assume."

"I believe he is." Harry nods.

"Well, I'm truly relieved and happy that you're back to your old body, H," Doniya says as she stands up. She pads over to the head of the bed and kisses both of Harry's cheeks, the tip of Zivon's nose and then Zayn's temple. She checks the time on her wristwatch and decides to go home. "I'm going to head home, boys. I'll come back with mum and dad tomorrow at lunch time. Is that alright with you?"

"Are you sure?" Zayn asks worriedly. He glances out of the window, seeing the moon beaming down on them. He shakes his head. "You can just sleep on the guest room, Don. It's too late to be driving back home. Plus, you're tired. Sleep here it's a much better option."

Doniya only smiles. "Nah, I can manage," she says. "Besides, Alexander and I have plans for breakfast and to go jogging together tomorrow. Thank you for the offer, though." Alexander Scott is her boyfriend of 3 years and they live together.

"But-"

The protest on the tip of Zayn's tongue is cut off when Doniya shakes her head more firmly and then she moves on to murmur a goodbye to Harry and Zivon. Then, she goes over to him and hugs him tightly. "I'll be fine. I'm a big girl now, Zaynie."

Zayn scowls at the use of his childhood nickname. "Fine. Let me walk you out."

With a parting kiss to his husband and son, Zayn then escorts Doniya out of their home. They say their goodbyes on the front porch and then Zayn makes his sister swear to contact him the second she arrives home. Doniya laughs at that, nodding obediently to placate him. Then, he watches her enter her car, turn its engine on and back out of their driveway. He doesn't let Doniya's car out of his sight until she disappears at a street corner. It is only then that he goes inside his house, locking their front door. He crouches down afterwards, neatly lining up his shoes on the rack before heading upstairs. He makes a detour to their bathroom and cleans himself up quickly, making sure that he is extra squeaky clean to be around his newborn son. While he is at it, he also makes it a point to change into his comfy sleeping clothes.

"How're my boys?" Zayn announces as he enters their room. He sees Harry bent over the crib, cooing softly. The younger lad looks up at Zayn's entrance, grinning. Then, he puts a finger over his lips.

"Sssssh," he whispers rather loudly, failing to follow even his own order. Zayn holds back a smirk. "Zivon's sleeping."

Flipping the light switch to a dim setting, Zayn joins his husband with a soft chuckle. He wraps an around Harry's waist, squeezing his hips rougher than he has intended to. He looks down at his sleeping firstborn with a loving grin, feeling inexplicably spellbound by the small human that looks like the perfect combination of Harry and himself. He drinks in the scrunched up forehead, the long eyelashes fanning against chubby, ruddy cheeks, the button nose and the pouty pair of tiny lips; Zivon Helios Malik will definitely be a devastatingly handsome young man when he grows up, no doubt.

"I hope he gets your eyes, Haz," Zayn tells his husband, knocking their heads gently together.

Harry grins, grabbing Zayn's hand and pulling him to the bed. "And I hope he also gets my charming personality and brilliant sense of humor."

Spooning his husband from behind, Zayn wraps his arms around Harry's waist and presses their bodies flush together. He laughs quietly. "What sense of humor are you talking about, Harry Edward Malik? You're so corny."

As punishment, Harry pushes his arse against Zayn's clothed member and brings his hand up, biting it playfully. "I'm not corny, Zayn Javadd Malik. I throw the most awesome jokes, for your information."

"Sure you do," Zayn mocks, squeezing Harry's hips to still his movements; he doesn't need an unnecessary erection right now, thank you very much. "Tell me one right now and I'll be the judge of that."

Harry clears his throat, giggling a bit even though he has yet to tell his joke. He is too cute for words. "Alright, alright. Here it goes," he says. "You may look around you and see two different groups of people. White collar...blue collar...but I don't see it that way, you know why not?"

Zayn readies himself for the inevitable lame punchline, eyes closed tightly.

Harry chortles. "Because I am _collar_ blind."

Zayn snorts and lightly hits Harry's stomach. "That was so bad, Hazza."

"It was hilarious," Harry defends himself. "I'm hilarious."

"Yeah, sure, whatever keeps you happy."

With a soft chuckle, Harry turns on his other side to face Zayn. He curls up and tucks his head underneath his husband's chin, sighing happily.

Zayn buries his nose in Harry's hair. "I'm really glad you're back, my love."

"I'm glad I'm back, too," Harry says, kissing the skin just above Zayn's heart and closing his eyes.

Within seconds, the couple finally drift off to the most contented slumber that they are able to get for the first time in almost a year. Everything around them is still and quiet; Zivon is on his crib, sleeping peacefully while the moonlight is shyly peeking into their room from the glass windows, casting a soft glow into the picture perfect night in the Malik household.  
  



	11. Epilogue

**5 months later**

 

"Was the little boy good enough to compensate for the pains of the past year, Zayn Malik?"

Zayn stops dead in his tracks, dropping the cup of coffee in his hands. It lands with a glorious wet flop and a splash, spilling steaming black coffee onto the pavement. Slowly, the stunned lad turns on his heels to face the unknown stranger that is talking to him.

"What are you talking about?" he struggles to ask, finding his hands trembling and sweat breaking out of his skin. Who is this bloke and why the bloody hell does he know about Zayn's son?

The stranger pushes himself off of the wall that he is leaning against and approaches Zayn. He is wearing a thin white v-neck shirt, a pair of dark denim jeans and oxfords. He looks like he is in his mid-40's and is sort of a hard person to approach with his furrowed brows and squinty eyes. "Simon Cowell," he introduces himself, sticking a hand out for Zayn to shake. "Head of the coven of magic-wielders this side of town. Nice to meet you."

Nodding hesitantly, Zayn grabs Simon's hand and shakes it firmly. "Yeah, uh, nice to meet you, Simon."

The other grins and it transforms the harsh lines of his face to something lighter, friendlier. "How's Harry? Zivon?"

"How do you know them?" Zayn is quick to drop all pretenses and demands, staring at Simon with steely eyes. No more Mr. Nice Guy if Simon doesn't tell him right this very minute what and why the hell he knows about Zayn's family.

To the younger lad's surprise, instead of getting offended, Simon actually chuckles at his hostility. His eyes twinkle in amusement and he doesn't answer him, starting to walk away from Zayn and leaving the lad to follow him.

"I was out for a walk one night," Simon starts, sensing Zayn keeping pace beside him. "I couldn't sleep, you see, and instead of making something to help me do just that, I fancied a stroll of the empty streets, instead. I passed by this apartment and to my utter surprise, I hear a mumble of a wish, _I wish for a child of our own_ , sincere and very heartfelt. It was hard not to grant it."

"W-What?" Zayn stammers. He turns wide, surprised eyes to Simon.

"You wanted a child of your own, Zayn," Simon tells him patiently. "It was you who I heard was pouring his heart out into the night and it was me who has given you the chance to have your own child."

Totally speechless, that is what Zayn is. He has his mouth open but there isn't any sound coming out of it. He is properly floored by Simon's confession.

"Zayn?"

Oh.

"Yeah, erm, shit. Sorry," Zayn rushes to say, cheeks pinking in embarrassment. "T-Thank you, Simon. This was, uh, alot to take in, but truly I'm grateful, mate."

"You're welcome, lad," Simon says with a pleased smile. "I'm happy to have helped you and Harry."

"God, Zivon is such a blessing to us," Zayn gushes softly, imagining his little lad with his bright hazel eyes and his head full of dark brown ringlets. He's proper adorable and enchanting that people around him find it hard not to say hi or make faces to coax a smile out of him. "Honestly, when Harry was turned into a girl, I was upset. Then, we found out that he was pregnant and that's the time that I lost it. I was so mad that I started neglecting my own husband, resenting the fact that somehow I was responsible for our situation. But, when I finally held my son for the first time, I realized how much I wanted him, hoped and wished for him. Now, I simply cannot imagine our life without him. So, thank you again, Simon, for what you've done."

Simon steps closer to Zayn and pats him on the shoulder, smiling warmly. "Hey, I told you it was no trouble at all. Besides, you both deserve it."

Zayn nods and they both turn quiet for a short while, gazing up at the darkening sky with thoughtful eyes. A couple of minutes later, Simon bids Zayn a goodbye before disappearing right around the corner. Zayn then continues on his journey home to his boys.

"I'm home," Zayn hollers as he sheds his coat and shoes by the front door. He hears Harry respond with a _Welcome home, my love!_ as he neatly lines up his dress shoes beside his husband's beloved chelsea boots and Zivon's little sneakers, smiling lovingly at the tiny pair. He hangs his coat on the hook behind the door and then locks it before proceeding to the kitchen, where he is sure his two precious lads are. Sure enough, he finds them in the kitchen, both covered in sticky applesauce, which makes him laugh loudly.

"Hello, my two favourite people in the world," Zayn croons as he approaches them, kissing Zivon's chubby cheeks and uncaring that he gets applesauce on his beard. Zivon coos at Zayn in response. "You're all sticky, bub."

"He got his messy eating traits from you, Z," Harry says with a chortle, bringing his hands around Zayn's neck to draw him in an embrace. "How was your day?"

Unbothered by Harry's eating comment (only because he knows it is partially true), Zayn's mind brings him to the moment earlier, the meeting with Simon and the clarity with which he has felt when the older man has told him the truth behind Zivon and the circumstances with which his birth has resulted from. Zayn wants to share that feeling to Harry.

"You'll never believe who I met earlier, Haz," the older of the two says like a secret, brushing the wayward strands of curly hair that has gotten into Harry's face before he presses a kiss onto those tempting cherry lips.

Harry's eyes light up. "Who?"

Zayn looks at his happily gurgling son first and then back into his husband's clear green eyes, grinning. He taps the curly-haired brunette on the tip of his nose. "I'll tell you in a bedtime story, baby. I know Zivon will absolutely love it."

Harry pouts playfully. "Alright," he agrees. "Let's eat dinner first. Wash up, Zayn, and food will be ready in a few."

Zayn nods and picks up his son from his high chair, intent on cleaning him up. "I got Ziv, Hazza. I'll change his clothes because they're all sticky."

"Mhmm, thank you, love."

After a delicious dinner of Linguine with white clam sauce, which Harry has seen on tv some nights ago, the couple are now laying in bed, a sleepy Zivon in between them. Harry has his hands on his son's soft hair, gently moving his fingers back and forth the dark brown strands, while Zayn is resting with his eyes closed.

"So," Harry chirps softly, nudging Zayn's shin with his cold toes. "What's this _bedtime story_ that you are talking about?"

Zayn hums and opens his eyes. He looks down and sees Zivon's beautiful eyes gazing up at him in wonder. His heart swells. "Well, it goes a little something like this: Once upon a time, there were two princes who were so in love with each other..."

A few streets away, a powerful magic-wielder is sitting infront of an enchanted mirror, watching two of his favorite people talk about the miracle that has been bestowed upon them. He smirks, proud of his accomplishment. When he is satisfied enough, he snaps his fingers, turning his makeshift monitor off. Then, he closes the small book on top of his desk, where a picture of Zayn, Harry and Zivon is immortalized at the very end, murmuring a quiet, "and they lived happily ever after."

 

 

 

 

**T H E E N D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this story is finished. I've had fun writing it and I hope you enjoyed it! You all are lovely xx


End file.
